A  VOICE  in  tfie 

WILDERNESS 

GRACE   LIVINGSTON   HILL 

y 


A  VOICE  in  the 
WILDERNESS 


A  NOVEL 


BY 

GRACE  LIVINGSTON  HILL 

It 

AUTHOR  OF 
MARCIA  SCHUYLER,  ETC. 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    YORK 


Published   by  Arrangement  with  Harper   and  Brother**'' 

m  i iic  United  butes  u  Ameoca 


A  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Copyright,  1916,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 

Published  September,  1916 

D-K 


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A  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


A  VOICE 
IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


CHAPTER  I 


WITH  a  lurch  the  train  came  to  a  dead  stop  and 
Margaret  Earle,  hastily  gathering  up  her 
belongings,  hurried  down  the  aisle  and  got  out  into 
the  night. 

It  occurred  to  her,  as  she  swung  her  heavy  suit- 
case down  the  rather  long  step  to  the  ground,  and 
then  carefully  swung  herself  after  it,  that  it  was 
strange  that  neither  conductor,  brakeman,  nor  porter 
had  come  to  help  her  off  the  train,  when  all  three 
had  taken  the  trouble  to  tell  her  that  hers  was  the 
iiext  station;  but  she  could  hear  voices  up  ahead. 
Perhaps  something  was  the  matter  with  the  engine 
that  detained  them  and  they  had  forgotten  her  for 
the  moment. 

The  ground  was  rough  where  s'he  stood,  and  there 
seemed  no  sign  of  a  platform.  Did  they  not  have 
platforms  in  this  wild  Western  land,  or  was  the 
train  so  long  that  her  car  had  stopped  before  reach- 
ing it? 

M5Y3G7 


A  VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

She  strained  her  eyes  into  the  darkness,  and  tried 
to  make  out  things  from  the  two  or  three  specks  of 
light  that  danced  about  like  fireflies  in  the  distance. 
She  could  dimly  see  moving  figures  away  up  near 
the  engine,  and  each  one  evidently  carried  a  lantern. 
The  train  was  tremendously  long.  A  sudden  feeling 
of  isolation  took  possession  of  her.  Perhaps  she 
ought  not  to  have  got  out  until  some  one  came  to 
help  her.  Perhaps  the  train  had  not  pulled  into 
the  station  yet  and  she  ought  to  get  back  on  it  and 
wait.  Yet  if  the  tram  started  before  she  found  the 
conductor  she  might,  be  carried  on  somewhere  and 
he  justly  blame  her  for  a  fool. 

There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  building  on  that 
side  of  the  track.  It  was  probably  on  the  other,  but 
she  was  standing  too  near  the  cars  to  see  over.  She 
tried  to  move  back  to  look,  but  the  ground  sloped 
and  she  slipped  and  fell  in  the  cinders,  bruising  her 
knee  and  cutting  her  wrist. 

In  sudden  panic  she  arose.  She  would  get  back 
into  the  train,  no  matter  what  the  consequences. 
They  had  no  right  to  put  her  out  here,  away  off 
from  the  station,  at  night,  in  a  strange  country.  If 
the  train  started  before  she  could  find  the  conductor 
she  would  tell  him  that  he  must  back  it  up  again 
and  let  her  off.  He  certainly  could  not  expect  her 
to  get  out  like  this. 

She  lifted  the  heavy  suit-case  up  the  high  step  that 
was  even  farther  from  the  ground  than  it  had  been 
when  she  came  down,  because  her  fall  had  loosened 
some  of  the  earth  and  caused  it  to  slide  away  from 
the  track.  Then,  reaching  to  the  rail  of  the  step, 

she  tried  to  pull  herself  up,  but  as  she  did  so  the 

2 


A   VOICE    IN    THE  WILDERNESS 

engine  gave  a  long  snort  and  the  whole  train,  as  if 
it  were  in  league  against  her,  lurched  forward  crazily, 
shaking  off  her  hold.  She  slipped  to  her  knees  again,, 
the  suit-case,  toppled  from  the  lower  step,  descending 
upon  her,  and  together  they  slid  and  rolled  down  the 
short  bank,  while  the  train,  like  an  irresponsible 
nurse  who  had  slapped  her  charge  and  left  it  to  its 
fate,  ran  giddily  off  into  the  night. 

The  horror  of  being  deserted  helped  the  girl  to 
rise  in  spite  of  bruises  and  shock.  She  lifted  im- 
ploring hands  to  the  unresponsive  cars  as  they  hur- 
ried by  her — one,  two,  three,  with  bright  windows, 
each  showing  a  passenger,  comfortable  and  safe  in- 
side, unconscious  of  her  need. 

A  moment  of  useless  screaming,  running,  trying 
to  attract  some  one's  attention,  a  sickening  sense 
of  terror  and  failure,  and  the  last  car  slatted  itself 
past  with  a  mocking  clatter,  as  if  it  enjoyed  her 
discomfort. 

Margaret  stood  dazed,  reaching  out  helpless  hands, 
then  dropped  them  at  her  sides  and  gazed  after  the 
fast-retreating  tram,  the  light  on  its  last  car  swing- 
ing tauntingly,  blinking  now  and  then  with  a  leer 
in  its  eye,  rapidly  vanishing  from  her  sight  into 
the  depth  of  the  night. 

She  gasped  and  looked  about  her  for  the  station 
that  but  a  short  moment  before  had  been  so  real  to 
her  mind;  and,  lo!  on  this  side  and  on  that  there 
was  none! 

The  night  was  wide  like  a  great  floor  shut  hi  by 
a  low,  vast  dome  of  curving  blue  set  with  the  largest, 
most  wonderful  stars  she  had  ever  seen.  Heavy 
shadows  of  purple-green,  smoke-like,  hovered  over 

3 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

earth  darker  and  more  intense  than  the  unfathom- 
able blue  of  the  night  sky.  It  seemed  like  the  secret 
nesting-place  of  mysteries  wherein  no  human  foot 
might  dare  intrude.  It  was  incredible  that  such 
could  be  but  common  sage-brush,  sand,  and  grease- 
wood  wrapped  about  with  the  beauty  of  the  lonely 
night. 

No  building  broke  the  inky  outlines  of  the  plain, 
nor  friendly  light  streamed  out  to  cheer  her  heart. 
Not  even  a  tree  was  in  sight,  except  on  the  far 
horizon,  where  a  heavy  line  of  deeper  darkness 
might  mean  a  forest.  Nothing,  absolutely  nothing, 
in  the  blue,  deep,  starry  dome  above  and  the  bluer 
darkness  of  the  earth  below  save  one  sharp  shaft 
ahead  like  a  black  mast  throwing  out  a  dark  arm 
across  the  track. 

As  soon  as  she  sighted  it  she  picked  up  her  baggage 
and  made  her  painful  way  toward  it,  for  her  knees 
and  wrist  were  bruised  and  her  baggage  was  heavy. 

A  soft  drip,  drip  greeted  her  as  she  drew  nearer; 
something  plashing  down  among  the  cinders  by  the 
track.  Then  she  saw  the  tall  column  with  its  arm 
outstretched,  and  looming  darker  among  the  sage- 
brush the  outlines  of  a  water-tank.  It  was  so  she 
recognized  the  engine's  drinking-tank,  and  knew  that 
she  had  mistaken  a  pause  to  water  the  engine  for  a 
regular  stop  at  a  station. 

Her  soul  sank  within  her  as  she  came  up  to  the 
dripping  water  and  laid  her  hand  upon  the  dark 
upright,  as  if  in  some  way  it  could  help  her.  She 
dropped  her  baggage  and  stood,  trembling,  gazing 
around  upon  the  beautiful,  lonely  scene  in  horror; 
and  then,  like  a  mirage  against  the  distance,  there 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

melted  on  her  frightened  eyes  a  vision  of  her  father 
and  mother  sitting  around  the  library  lamp  at  home, 
as  they  sat  every  evening.  They  were  probably 
reading  and  talking  at  this  very  minute,  and  trying 
not  to  miss  her  on  this  her  first  venture  away  from 
the  home  into  the  great  world  to  teach.  What 
would  they  say  if  they  could  see  their  beloved 
daughter,  whom  they  had  sheltered  all  these  years 
and  let  go  forth  so  reluctantly  now,  in  all  her  con- 
fidence of  youth,  bound  by  almost  absurd  promises 
to  be  careful  and  not  run  any  risks. 

Yet  here  she  was,  standing  alone  beside  a  water- 
tank  hi  the  midst  of  an  Arizona  plain,  no  knowing 
how  many  miles  from  anywhere,  at  somewhere  be- 
tween nine  and  ten  o'clock  at  night!  It  seemed  in- 
credible that  it  had  really  happened!  Perhaps  she 
was  dreaming!  A  few  moments  before  in  the  bright 
car,  surrounded  by  drowsy  fellow-travelers,  almost 
at  her  journey's  end,  as  she  supposed;  and  now, 
having  merely  done  as  she  thought  right,  she  was 
stranded  here! 

She  rubbed  her  eyes  and  looked  again  up  the 
track,  half  expecting  to  see  the  train  come  back 
for  her.  Surely,  surely  the  conductor,  or  the  porter 
who  had  been  so  kind,  would  discover  that  she  was 
gone,  and  do  something  about  it.  They  couldn't 
leave  her  here  alone  on  the  prairie!  It  would  be 
too  dreadful! 

That  vision  of  her  father  and  mother  off  against 
the  purple-green  distance,  how  it  shook  her!  The 
lamp  looked  bright  and  cheerful,  and  she  could  see 
her  father's  head  with  its  heavy  white  hah*.  He 
turned  to  look  at  her  mother  to  tell  her  of  some- 

5 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

thing  he  read  in  the  paper.  They  were  sitting  there, 
feeling  contented  and  almost  happy  about  her,  and 
she,  their  little  girl — all  her  dignity  as  school-teacher 
dropped  from  her  like  a  garment  now — she  was 
standing  in  this  empty  space  alone,  with  only  an 
engine's  water-tank  to  keep  her  from  dying,  and  only 
the  barren,  desolate  track  to  connect  her  with  the 
world  of  men  and  women.  She  dropped  her  head 
upon  her  breast  and  the  tears  came,  sobbing,  chok- 
ing, raining  down.  Then  off  in  the  distance  she 
heard  a  low,  rising  howl  of  some  snarling,  angry 
beast,  and  she  lifted  her  head  and  stood  in  trembling 
terror,  clinging  to  the  tank. 

That  sound  was  coyotes  or  wolves  howling.  She 
had  read  about  them,  but  had  not  expected  to  ex- 
perience them  in  such  a  situation.  How  confidently 
had  she  accepted  the  position  which  offered  her  the 
opening  she  had  sought  for  the  splendid  career  that 
she  hoped  was  to  follow !  How  fearless  had  she  been ! 
Coyotes,  nor  Indians,  nor  wild  cowboy  students — 
nothing  had  daunted  her  courage.  Besides,  she 
told  her  mother  it  was  very  different  going  to  a 
town  from  what  it  would  be  if  she  were  a  missionary 
going  to  the  wilds.  It  was  an  important  school  she 
was  to  teach,  where  her  Latin  and  German  and 
mathematical  achievements  had  won  her  the  place 
above  several  other  applicants,  and  where  her  well- 
known  tact  was  expected  to  work  wonders.  But 
what  were  Latin  and  German  and  mathematics  now? 
Could  they  show  her  how  to  climb  a  water-tank? 
Would  tact  avail  with  a  hungry  wolf? 

The  howl  hi  the  distance  seemed  to  come  nearer. 

She  cast  frightened  eyes  to  the  unresponsive  water- 

6 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

tank  looming  high  and  dark  above  her.  She  must 
get  up  there  somehow.  It  was  not  safe  to  stand 
here  a  minute.  Besides,  from  that  height  she  might 
be  able  to  see  farther,  and  perhaps  there  would  be 
a  light  somewhere  and  she  might  cry  for  help. 

Investigation  showed  a  set  of  rude  spikes  by 
which  the  trainmen  were  wont  to  climb  up,  and  Mar- 
garet prepared  to  ascend  them.  She  set  her  suit- 
case dubiously  down  at  the  foot.  Would  it  be  safe 
to  leave  it  there?  She  had  read  how  coyotes  car- 
ried off  a  hatchet  from  a  camping-party,  just  to  get 
the  leather  thong  which  was  bound  about  the 
handle.  She  could  not  afford  to  lose  her  things. 
Yet  how  could  she  climb  and  carry  that  heavy  bur- 
den with  her?  A  sudden  thought  came. 

Her  simple  traveling-gown  was  finished  with  a 
silken  girdle,  soft  and  long,  wound  twice  about  her 
waist  and  falling  in  tasseled  ends.  Swiftly  she  un- 
tied it  and  knotted  one  end  firmly  to  the  handle 
of  her  suit-case,  tying  the  other  end  securely  to  her 
wrist.  Then  slowly,  cautiously,  with  many  a  look 
upward,  she  began  to  climb. 

It  seemed  miles,  though  in  reality  it  was  but  a 
short  distance.  The  howling  beasts  in  the  distance 
sounded  nearer  now  and  continually,  making  her 
heart  beat  wildly.  She  was  stiff  and  bruised  from 
her  falls,  and  weak  with  fright.  The  spikes  were  far 
apart,  and  each  step  of  progress  was  painful  and 
difficult.  It  was  good  at  last  to  rise  high  enough 
to  see  over  the  water-tank  and  feel  a  certain  con- 
fidence in  her  defense. 

But  she  had  risen  already  beyond  the  short  length 
of  her  silken  tether,  and  the  suit-case  was  dragging 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

painfully  on  her  arm.  She  was  obliged  to  steady 
herself  where  she  stood  and  pull  it  up  before  she 
could  go  on.  Then  she  managed  to  get  it  swung 
up  to  the  top  of  the  tank  hi  a  comparatively  safe 
place.  One  more  long  spike  step  and  she  was 
beside  it. 

The  tank  was  partly  roofed  over,  so  that  she  had 
room  enough  to  sit  on  the  edge  without  danger  of 
falling  in  and  drowning.  For  a  few  minutes  she 
could  only  sit  still  and  be  thankful  and  try  to  get 
her  breath  back  again  after  the  climb;  but  presently 
the  beauty  of  the  night  began  to  cast  its  spell  over 
her.  That  wonderful  blue  of  the  sky!  It  hadn't 
ever  before  impressed  her  that  skies  were  blue  at 
night.  She  would  have  said  they  were  black  or 
gray.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  didn't  remember  to 
have  ever  seen  so  much  sky  at  once  before,  nor  to 
have  noticed  skies  in  general  until  now. 

This  sky  was  so  deeply,  wonderfully  blue,  the 
stars  so  real,  alive  and  sparkling,  that  all  other  stars 
she  had  ever  seen  paled  before  them  into  mere 
imitations.  The  spot  looked  like  one  of  Taylor's 
pictures  of  the  Holy  Land.  She  half  expected  to  see 
a  shepherd  with  his  crook  and  sheep  approaching 
her  out  of  the  dim  shadows,  or  a  turbaned,  white- 
robed  David  with  his  lifted  hands  of  prayer  stand- 
ing off  among  the  depths  of  purple  darkness,  It 
would  not  have  been  out  of  keeping  if  a  walled  city 
with  housetops  should  be  hidden  behind  the  clumps 
of  sage-brush  farther  on.  'Twas  such  a  night  and 
such  a  scene  as  this,  perhaps,  when  the  wise  men 
started  to  follow  the  star! 

But  one  cannot  sit  on  the  edge  of  a  water-tank 

8 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

in  the  desert  night  alone  and  muse  long  on  art  and 
history.  It  was  cold  up  there,  and  the  howling 
seemed  nearer  than  before.  There  was  no  sign  of 
a  light  or  a  house  anywhere,  and  not  even  a  freight- 
train  sent  its  welcome  clatter  down  the  track.  All 
was  still  and  wide  and  lonely,  save  that  terrifying 
sound  of  the  beasts;  such  stillness  as  she  had  not 
ever  thought  could  be — a  fearful  silence  as  a  setting 
for  the  awful  voices  of  the  wilds. 

The  bruises  and  scratches  she  had  acquired  set 
up  a  fine  stinging,  and  the  cold  seemed  to  sweep 
down  and  take  possession  of  her  on  her  high,  narrow 
seat.  She  was  growing  stiff  and  cramped,  yet  dared 
not  move  much.  Would  there  be  no  train,  nor  any 
help?  Would  she  have  to  sit  there  all  night?  It 
looked  so  very  near  to  the  ground  now.  Could  wild 
beasts  climb,  she  wondered? 

Then  in  the  interval  of  silence  that  came  between 
the  calling  of  those  wild  creatures  there  stole  a  sound. 
She  could  not  tell  at  first  what  it  was.  A  slow, 
regular,  plodding  sound,  and  quite  far  away.  She 
looked  to  find  it,  and  thought  she  saw  a  shape  move 
out  of  the  sage-brush  on  the  other  side  of  the  track, 
but  she  could  not  be  sure.  It  might  be  but  a  fig- 
ment of  her  brain,  a  foolish  fancy  from  looking  so 
long  at  the  huddled  bushes  on  the  dark  plain.  Yet 
something  prompted  her  to  cry  out,  and  when  she 
heard  her  own  voice  she  cried  again  and  louder, 
wondering  why  she  had  not  cried  before. 

"Help!  Help!"  she  called;  and  again:  "Help! 
Help!" 

The  dark  shape  paused  and  turned  toward  her. 

She  was  sure  now.     What  if  it  were  a  beast  instead 

9 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

of  a  human!  Terrible  fear  took  possession  of  her; 
then,  to  her  infinite  relief,  a  nasal  voice  sounded 
out: 

"Who's  thar?" 

But  when  she  opened  her  lips  to  answer,  nothing 
but  a  sob  would  come  to  them  for  a  minute,  and 
then  she  could  only  cry,  pitifully: 

"Help!    HelpK 

"Whar  be  you?"  twanged  the  voice;  and  now  she 
could  see  a  horse  and  rider  like  a  shadow  moving 
toward  her  down  the  track. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  horse  came  to  a  standstill  a  little  way  from 
the  track,  and  his  rider  let  forth  a  stream  of 
strange  profanity.  The  girl  shuddered  and  began 
to  think  a  wild  beast  might  be  preferable  to  some 
men.  However,  these  remarks  seemed  to  be  a  mere 
formality.  He  paused  and  addressed  her: 

"Heow'd  yeh  git  up  thar?  D'j'yeh  drap  er 
climb?" 

He  was  a  little,  wiry  man  with  a  bristly,  protruding 
chin.  She  could  see  that,  even  in  the  starlight. 
There  was  something  about  the  point  of  that  stubby 
chin  that  she  shrank  from  inexpressibly.  He  was 
not  a  pleasant  man  to  look  upon,  and  even  his  voice 
was  unprepossessing  She  began  to  think  that  even 
the  night  with  its  loneliness  and  unknown  perils  was 
preferable  to  this  man's  company. 

"I  got  off  the  train  by  mistake,  thinking  it  was  my 
station,  and  before  I  discovered  it  the  train  had 
gone  and  left  me/'  Margaret  explained,  with  dignity. 

"Yeh  didn't  'xpect  it  t'  sit  reound  on  th'  plain 
while  you  was  gallivantin'  up  water-tanks,  did 
yeh?" 

Cold  horror  froze  Margaret's  veins.  She  was 
dumb  for  a  second.  "I  am  on  my  way  to  Ashland 
station.  Can  you  tell  me  how  far  it  is  from  here  and 

how  I  can  get  there?"    Her  tone  was  like  icicles. 

11 


A   VOICE   IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"It's  a  little  matter  o'  twenty  miles,  more  'r  less," 
said  the  man  protruding  his  offensive  chin.  "The 
walkings  good.  I  don't  know  no  other  way  from 
this  p'int  at  this  time  o'  night.  Yeh  might  set  still 
till  th'  mornin'  freight  goes  by  an'  drap  atop  o'  one 
of  the  kyars." 

"Sir!"  said  Margaret,  remembering  her  dignity 
as  a  teacher. 

The  man  wheeled  his  horse  clear  around  and  looked 
up  at  her  impudently.  She  could  smell  bad  whisky 
on  his  breath. 

"Say,  you  must  be  some  young  highbrow,  ain't 
yeh?  Is  thet  all  yeh  want  o'  me?  'Cause  ef  'tis 
I  got  t'  git  on  t'  camp.  It's  a  good  five  mile  yet, 
an'  I  'ain't  hed  no  grub  sence  noon." 

The  tears  suddenly  rushed  to  the  girl's  eyes  as 
the  horror  of  being  alone  in  the  night  again  took 
possession  of  her.  This  dreadful  man  frightened 
her,  but  the  thought  of  the  loneliness  filled  her  with 
dismay. 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  forgetting  her  insulted  dignity, 
"you're  not  going  to  leave  me  up  here  alone,  are 
you?  Isn't  there  some  place  near  here  where  I  could 
stay  overnight?" 

"Thur  ain't  no  palace  hotel  round  these  diggings, 
ef  that's  what  you  mean,"  the  man  leered  at  her. 
"You  c'n  come  along  t'  camp  'ith  me  ef  you  ain't 
too  stuck  up." 

"To  camp!"  faltered  Margaret  in  dismay,  won- 
dering what  her  mother  would  say.  "Are  there  any 
ladies  there?" 

A  loud  guffaw  greeted  her  question.     "Wai,  my 

woman's  thar,  sech  es  she  is;  but  she  ain't  no  high- 

12 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

flier  like  you.  We  mostly  don't  hev  ladies  to  camp. 
But  I  got  t'  git  on.  Ef  you  want  to  go  too,  you 
better  light  down  pretty  speedy,  fer  I  can't  wait." 

In  fear  and  trembling  Margaret  descended  her 
rude  ladder  step  by  step,  primitive  man  seated 
calmly  on  his  horse,  making  no  attempt  whatever 
to  assist  her. 

"This  ain't  no  baggage-car,"  he  grumbled,  as  he 
saw  the  suit-case  in  her  hand.  "Well,  h'ist  yerself 
up  thar;  I  reckon  we  c'n  pull  through  somehow. 
Gimme  the  luggage." 

Margaret  stood  appalled  beside  the  bony  horse 
and  his  uncouth  rider.  Did  he  actually  expect  her 
to  ride  with  him?  "Couldn't  I  walk?"  she  faltered, 
hoping  he  would  offer  to  do  so. 

"'T's  up  t'  you,"  the  man  replied,  indifferently. 
"Try  't  an'  see!" 

He  spoke  to  the  horse,  and  it  started  forward 
eagerly,  while  the  girl  in  horror  struggled  on  behind. 
Over  rough,  uneven  ground,  between  greasewood, 
sage-brush,  and  cactus,  back  into  the  trail.  The 
man,  oblivious  of  her  presence,  rode  contentedly  on, 
a  silent  shadow  on  a  dark  horse  wending  a  silent 
way  between  the  purple-green  clumps  of  other 
shadows,  until,  bewildered,  the  girl  almost  lost  sight 
of  them.  Her  breath  came  short,  her  ankle  turned, 
and  she  fell  with  both  hands  in  a  stinging  bed  of 
cactus.  She  cried  out  then  and  begged  him  to  stop. 

"L'arned  yer  lesson,  hev  yeh,  sweety?"  he  jeered 
at  her,  foolishly.  "Well,  get  in  yer  box,  then." 

He  let  her  struggle  up  to  a  seat  behind  himself 
with  very  little  assistance,  but  when  she  was  seated 
and  started  on  her  way  she  began  to  wish  she  had 

2  13 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

stayed  behind  and  taken  any  perils  of  the  way  rather 
than  trust  herself  in  proximity  to  this  creature. 

From  time  to  tune  he  took  a  bottle  from  his  pocket 
and  swallowed  a  portion  of  its  contents,  becoming 
fluent  in  his  language  as  they  proceeded  on  their 
way.  Margaret  remained  silent,  growing  more  and 
more  frightened  every  time  the  bottle  came  out. 
At  last  he  offered  it  to  her.  She  declined  it  with 
cold  politeness,  which  seemed  to  irritate  the  little 
man,  for  he  turned  suddenly  fierce. 

"Oh,  yer  too  fine  to  take  a  drap  fer  good  company, 
are  yeh?  Wai,  111  show  yeh  a  thing  er  two,  my 
pretty  lady.  You'll  give  me  a  kiss  with  yer  two 
cherry  lips  before  we  go  another  step.  D'yeh  hear, 
my  sweetie?"  And  he  turned  with  a  silly  leer  to 
enforce  his  command;  but  with  a  cry  of  horror 
Margaret  slid  to  the  ground  and  ran  back  down  the 
trail  as  hard  as  she  could  go,  till  she  stumbled  and 
fell  in  the  shelter  of  a  great  sage-bush,  and  lay 
sobbing  on  the  sand. 

The  man  turned  bleared  eyes  toward  her  and 
watched  until  she  disappeared.  Then  sticking  his 
chin  out  wickedly,  he  slung  her  suit-case  after  her 
and  called: 

"All  right,  my  pretty  lady;  go  yer  own  gait  an' 
Tarn  yer  own  lesson."  He  started  on  again,  singing 
a  drunken  song. 

Under  the  blue,  starry  dome  alone  sat  Margaret 
again,  this  time  with  no  friendly  water-tank  for  her 
defense,  and  took  counsel  with  herself.  The  howling 
coyotes  seemed  to  be  silenced  for  the  time;  at  least 
they  had  become  a  minor  quantity  in  her  equation 
of  troubles.  She  felt  now  that  man  was  her  greatest 

14 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

menace,  and  to  get  away  safely  from  him  back  to 
that  friendly  water-tank  and  the  dear  old  railroad 
track  she  would  have  pledged  her  next  year's  salary. 
She  stole  softly  to  the  place  where  she  had  heard 
the  suit-case  fall,  and,  picking  it  up,  started  on  the 
weary  road  back  to  the  tank.  Could  she  ever  find 
the  way?  The  trail  seemed  so  intangible  a  thing, 
her  sense  of  direction  so  confused.  Yet  there  was 
nothing  else  to  do.  She  shuddered  whenever  she 
thought  of  the  man  who  had  been  her  companion 
on  horseback. 

When  the  man  reached  camp  he  set  his  horse 
loose  and  stumbled  into  the  door  of  the  log  bunk- 
house,  calling  loudly  for  something  to  eat. 

The  men  were  sitting  around  the  room  on  the 
rough  benches  and  bunks,  smoking  their  pipes  or 
stolidly  staring  into  the  dying  fire.  Two  smoky 
kerosene-lanterns  that  hung  from  spikes  driven  high 
in  the  logs  cast  a  weird  light  over  the  company, 
eight  men  in  all,  rough  and  hardened  with  exposure 
to  stormy  life  and  weather.  They  were  men  with 
unkempt  beards  and  uncombed  hair,  their  coarse 
cotton  shirts  open  at  the  neck,  their  brawny  arms 
bare  above  the  elbow,  with  crimes  and  sorrows  and 
hard  living  written  large  across  their  faces. 

There  was  one,  a  boy  in  looks,  with  smooth  face 
and  white  skin  healthily  flushed  in  places  like  a 
baby's.  His  face,  too,  was  hard  and  set  in  sternness 
like  a  mask,  as  if  life  had  used  him  badly;  but  behind 
it  was  a  fineness  of  feature  and  spirit  that  could  not 
be  utterly  hidden.  They  called  him  the  Kid,  and 
thought  it  was  his  youth  that  made  him  different 
from  them  all,  for  he  was  only  twenty-f ou*,  and  not 

15 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

one  of  the  rest  was  under  forty.  They  were  doing 
their  best  to  help  him  get  over  that  innate  fineness 
that  was  his  natural  inheritance,  but  although  he 
stopped  at  nothing,  and  played  his  part  always  with 
the  ease  of  one  old  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  yet  he 
kept  a  quiet  reserve  about  him,  a  kind  of  charm 
beyond  which  they  had  not  been  able  to  go. 

He  was  playing  cards  with  three  others  at  the 
table  when  the  man  came  in,  and  did  not  look  up  at 
the  entrance. 

The  woman,  white  and  hopeless,  appeared  at  the 
door  of  the  shed-room  when  the  man  came,  and 
obediently  set  about  getting  his  supper;  but  her 
lifeless  face  never  changed  expression. 

"Brung  a  gal  'long  of  me  part  way,"  boasted  the 
man,  as  he  flung  himself  into  a  seat  by  the  table. 
"Thought  you  fellers  might  like  t'  see  'er,  but  she 
got  too  high  an'  mighty  fer  me,  wouldn't  take  ;a 
pull  at  th'  bottle  'ith  me,  V  shrieked  like  a  cata- 
mount when  I  kissed  'er.  Found  'er  hangin'  on 
th'  water-tank.  Got  off  't  th'  wrong  place.  One 
o'  yer  highbrows  out  o'  th'  parlor  car!  Good 
lesson  fer  'er!" 

The  Boy  looked  up  from  his  cards  sternly,  his  keen 
eyes  boring  through  the  man.  "Where  is  she  now?" 
he  asked,  quietly;  and  all  the  men  in  the  room 
looked  up  uneasily.  There  was  that  tone  and  accent 
again  that  made  the  Boy  alien  from  them.  What 
was  it? 

The  man  felt  it  and  snarled  his  answer  angrily. 
"Dropped  'er  on  th'  trail,  an'  threw  her  fine-lady 
b'longin's  after  'er.  'Ain't  got  no  use  fer  thet  kind. 

Wonder  what  they  was  created  fer?    Ain't  no  good 

16 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

to  nobody,  not  even  'emselves."  And  he  laughed  a 
harsh  cackle  that  was  not  pleasant  to  hear. 

The  Boy  threw  down  his  cards  and  went  out, 
shutting  the  door.  In  a  few  minutes  the  men  heard 
two  horses  pass  the  end  of  the  bunk-house  toward 
the  trail,  but  no  one  looked  up  nor  spoke.  You 
could  not  have  told  by  the  flicker  of  an  eyelash  that 
they  knew  where  the  Boy  had  gone. 

She  was  sitting  in  the  deep  shadow  of  a  sage-bush 
that  lay  on  the  edge  of  the  trail  like  a  great  blotr 
her  suit-case  beside  her,  her  breath  coming  short 
with  exertion  and  excitement,  when  she  heard  a 
cheery  whistle  in  the  distance.  Just  an  old  love- 
song  dating  back  some  years  and  discarded  now  as 
hackneyed  even  by  the  street  pianos  at  home;  but 
oh,  how  good  it  sounded! 

From  the  desert  I  come  to  thee! 

The  ground  was  cold,  and  struck  a  chill  through 
her  garments  as  she  sat  there  alone  hi  the  night. 
On  came  the  clear,  musical  whistle,  and  she  peered 
out  of  the  shadow  with  eager  eyes  and  frightened 
heart.  Dared  she  risk  it  again?  Should  she  call, 
or  should  she  hold  her  breath  and  keep  still,  hoping 
he  would  pass  her  by  unnoticed?  Before  she  could 
decide  two  horses  stopped  almost  in  front  of  her  and 
a  rider  swung  himself  down.  He  stood  before  her 
as  if  it  were  day  and  he  could  see  her  quite  plainly  0 

"You  needn't  be  afraid,"  he  explained,  calmly. 
"I  thought  I  had  better  look  you  up  after  the  old 
man  got  home  and  gave  his  report.  He  was  pretty 
well  tanked  up  and  not  exactly  a  fit  escort  for  ladies. 
What's  the  trouble?" 

17 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Like  an  angel  of  deliverance  he  looked  to  her  as 
he  stood  in  the  starlight,  outlined  in  silhouette  against 
the  wide,  wonderful  sky:  broad  shoulders,  well-set 
head,  close-cropped  curls,  handsome  contour  even 
in  the  darkness.  There  was  about  him  an  air  of 
quiet  strength  which  gave  her  confidence. 

"Oh,  thank  you!"  she  gasped,  with  a  quick  little 
relieved  sob  hi  her  voice.  "I  am  so  glad  you  have 
come.  I  was — just  a  little — frightened,  I  think." 
She  attempted  to  rise,  but  her  foot  caught  hi  her 
skirt  and  she  sank  wearily  back  to  the  sand  again. 

The  Boy  stooped  over  and  lifted  her  to  her  feet. 
"You  certainly  are  some  plucky  girl!"  he  com- 
mented, looking  down  at  her  slender  height  as  she 
stood  beside  him.  "A  'little  frightened/  were 
you?  Well,  I  should  say  you  had  a  right  to  be." 

"Well,  not  exactly  frightened,  you  know,"  said 
Margaret,  taking  a  deep  breath  and  trying  to  steady 
her  voice.  "I  think  perhaps  I  was  more  mortified 
than  frightened,  to  think  I  made  such  a  blunder  as 
to  get  off  the  train  before  I  reached  my  station.  You 
see,  I'd  made  up  my  mind  not  to  be  frightened,  but 
when  I  heard  that  awful  howl  of  some  beast —  And 
then  that  terrible  man!"  She  shuddered  and  put 
her  hands  suddenly  over  her  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out 
all  memory  of  it. 

"More  than  one  kind  of  beasts!"  commented  the 
Boy,  briefly.  "Well,  you  needn't  worry  about  him; 
he's  having  his  supper  and  he'll  be  sound  asleep  by 
the  time  we  get  back." 

"Oh,  have  we  got  to  go  where  he  is?"  gasped  Mar- 
garet. "Isn't  there  some  other  place?  Is  Ashland 
very  far  away?  That  is  where  I  am  going. n 

18 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"No  other  place  where  you  could  go  to-night. 
Ashland 's  a  good  twenty-five  miles  from  here.  But 
you'll  be  all  right.  Mom  Wallis  '11  look  out  for  you. 
She  isn't  much  of  a  looker,  but  she  has  a  kind  heart, 
She  pulled  me  through  once  when  I  was  just  about 
flickering  out.  Come  on.  You'll  be  pretty  tired 
We  better  be  getting  back.  Mom  Wallis  '11  make 
you  comfortable,  and  then  you  can  get  off  good  and 
early  in  the  morning." 

Without  an  apology,  and  as  if  it  were  the  com- 
mon courtesy  of  the  desert,  he  stooped  and  lifted  her 
easily  to  the  saddle  of  the  second  horse,  placed  the 
bridle  in  her  hands,  then  swung  the  suit-case  up  on 
his  own  horse  and  sprang  into  the  saddle. 


CHAPTER  III 

HE  **rned  the  horses  about  and  took  charge  of 
her  just  as^if  he  were  accustomed  to  managing 
stray  ladies  in  the  wilderness  every  day  of  his  life 
and  understood  the  situation  perfectly;  and  Mar- 
garet settled  wearily  into  her  saddle  and  looked 
about  her  with  content. 

Suddenly,  again,  the  wide  wonder  of  the  night 
possessed  her.  Involuntarily  she  breathed  a  soft 
little  exclamation  of  awe  and  delight.  Her  com- 
panion turned  to  her  questioningly : 

"Does  it  always  seem  so  big  here — so — limitless?" 
she  asked  in  explanation.  "It  is  so  far  to  every- 
where it  takes  one's  breath  away,  and  yet  the  stars 
hang  close,  like  a  protection.  It  gives  one  the  feel- 
ing of  being  alone  in  the  great  universe  with  God. 
Does  it  always  seem  so  out  here?" 

He  looked  at  her  curiously,  her  pure  profile  turned 
up  to  the  wide  dome  of  luminous  blue  above.  His 
voice  was  strangely  low  and  wondering  as  he  an- 
swered, after  a  moment's  silence: 

"No,  it  is  not  always  so,"  he  said.  "I  have  seen 
it  when  it  was  more  like  being  alone  in  the  great 
universe  with  the  devil." 

There  was  a  tremendous  earnestness  in  his  tone 

that  the  girl  felt  meant  more  than  was  on  the  sur- 

20 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

face.  She  turned  to  look  at  the  fine  young  face 
beside  her.  In  the  starlight  she  could  not  make  out 
the  bitter  hardness  of  lines  that  were  beginning  to 
be  carved  about  his  sensitive  mouth.  But  there 
was  so  much  sadness  hi  his  voice  that  her  heart  went 
out  to  him  in  pity. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  gently,  "it  would  be  awful  that 
way.  Yes,  I  can  understand.  I  felt  so,  a  little, 
while  that  terrible  man  was  with  me."  And  she 
shuddered  again  at  the  remembrance. 

Again  he  gave  her  that  curious  look.  "There  are 
worse  things  than  Pop  Wallis  out  here,"  he  said, 
gravely.  "But  I'll  grant  you  there's  some  class  to 
the  skies.  It's  a  case  of  *  Where  every  prospect 
pleases  and  only  man  is  vile/  "  And  with  the  words 
his  tone  grew  almost  flippant.  It  hurt  her  sensitive 
nature,  and  without  knowing  it  she  half  drew  away 
a  little  farther  from  him  and  murmured,  sadly: 

"Oh!"  as  if  he  had  classed  himself  with  the  "man" 
he  had  been  describing.  Instantly  he  felt  her  with- 
drawal and  grew  grave  again,  as  if  he  would  atone. 

"Wait  till  you  see  this  sky  at  the  dawn,"  he  said. 
"It  will  burn  red  fire  off  there  in  the  east  like  a 
hearth  in  a  palace,  and  all  this  dome  will  glow  like 
a  great  pink  jewel  set  in  gold.  If  you  want  a  classy 
sky,  there  you  have  it!  Nothing  like  it  in  the  East!" 

There  was  a  strange  mingling  of  culture  and 
roughness  in  his  speech.  The  girl  could  not  make 
him  out;  yet  there  had  been  a  palpitating  earnest- 
ness in  his  description  that  showed  he  had  felt  the 
dawn  in  his  very  soul. 

"You  are — a — poet,   perhaps?"   she  asked,   half 

shyly.     "Or  an  artist?"  she  hazarded. 

21 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

He  laughed  roughly  and  seemed  embarrassed.  ' '  No, 
I'm  just  a — bum !  A  sort  of  roughneck  out  of  a  job." 

She  was  silent,  watching  him  against  the  starlight,  a 
kind  of  embarrassment  upon  her  after  his  last  remark. 
"You — have  been  here  long?"  she  asked,  at  last. 

"  Three  years."  He  said  it  almost  curtly  and 
turned  his  head  away,  as  if  there  were  something 
in  his  face  he  would  hide. 

She  knew  there  was  something  unhappy  in  his 
life.  Unconsciously  her  tone  took  on  a  sympathetic 
sound.  "And  do  you  get  homesick  and  want  to  go 
back,  ever?"  she  asked. 

His  tone  was  fairly  savage  now.     "No!" 

The  silence  which  followed  became  almost  op- 
pressive before  the  Boy  finally  turned  and  in  his 
kindly  tone  began  to  question  her  about  the  hap- 
penings which  had  stranded  her  in  the  desert  alone 
at  night. 

So  she  came  to  tell  him  briefly  and  frankly  about 
herself,  as  he  questioned — how  she  came  to  be  in 
Arizona  all  alone. 

"My  father  is  a  minister  in  a  small  town  in  New 
York  State.  When  I  finished  college  I  had  to  do 
something,  and  I  had  an  offer  of  this  Ashland  school 
through  a  friend  of  ours  who  had  a  brother  out  here. 
Father  and  mother  would  rather  have  kept  me 
nearer  home,  of  course,  but  everybody  says  the  best 
opportunities  are  in  the  West,  and  this  was  a  good 
opening,  so  they  finally  consented.  They  would 
send  post-haste  for  me  to  come  back  if  they  knew 
what  a  mess  I  have  made  of  things  right  at  the 
start — getting  out  of  the  train  in  the  desert." 

"But  you're  not  discouraged?"  said  her  companion, 

22 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

half  wonderingly.  "Some  nerve  you  have  with  you. 
I  guess  you'll  manage  to  hit  it  off  in  Ashland.  It's 
the  limit  as  far  as  discipline  is  concerned,  I  under- 
stand, but  I  guess  you'll  put  one  over  on  them.  I'll 
bank  on  you  after  to-night,  sure  thing!" 

She  turned  a  laughing  face  toward  him.  "Thank 
you!"  she  said.  "But  I  don't  see  how  you  know 
all  that.  I'm  sure  I  didn't  do  anything  particularly 
nervy.  There  wasn't  anything  else  to  do  but  what 
I  did,  if  I'd  tried." 

"Most  girls  would  have  fainted  and  screamed,  and 
fainted  again  when  they  were  rescued,"  stated  the 
Boy,  out  of  a  vast  experience. 

"I  never  fainted  in  my  life,"  said  Margaret  Earle, 
with  disdain.  "I  don't  think  I  should  care  to  faint 
out  in  the  vast  universe  like  this.  It  would  be 
rather  inopportune,  I  should  think." 

Then,  because  she  suddenly  realized  that  she  was 
growing  very  chummy  with  this  stranger  in  the  dark, 
she  asked  the  first  question  that  came  into  her  head, 

"What  was  your  college?" 

That  he  had  not  been  to  college  never  entered  her 
head.  There  was  something  in  his  speech  and 
manner  that  made  it  a  foregone  conclusion. 

It  was  as  if  she  had  struck  him  forcibly  in  his 
face,  so  sudden  and  sharp  a  silence  ensued  for  a 
second.  Then  he  answered,  gruffly,  "Yale,"  and 
plunged  into  an  elaborate  account  of  Arizona  in  its 
early  ages,  including  a  detailed  description  of  the 
cliff-dwellers  and  their  homes,  which  were  still  to 
be  seen  high  in  the  rocks  of  the  canons  not  many 
miles  to  the  west  of  where  they  were  riding. 

Margaret  was  keen  to  hear  it  all,  and  asked  many 

23 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

questions,  declaring  her  intention  of  visiting  those 
cliff-caves  at  her  earliest  opportunity.  It  was  so 
wonderful  to  her  to  be  actually  out  here  where  were 
all  sorts  of  queer  things  about  which  she  had  read 
and  wondered.  It  did  not  occur  to  her,  until  the 
next  day,  to  realize  that  her  companion  had  of  in- 
tention led  her  off  the  topic  of  himself  and  kept  her 
from  asking  any  more  personal  questions. 

He  told  her  of  the  petrified  forest  just  over  some 
low  hills  off  to  the  left;  acres  and  acres  of  agatized 
chips  and  trunks  of  great  trees  all  turned  to  eternal 
stone,  called  by  the  Indians  "Yeitso's  bones,"  after 
the  great  giant  of  that  name  whom  an  ancient  Indian 
hero  killed.  He  described  the  coloring  of  the  brill- 
iant days  in  Arizona,  where  you  stand  on  the  edge 
of  some  flat-topped  mesa  and  look  off  through  the 
clear  air  to  mountains  that  seem  quite  near  by,  but 
are  in  reality  more  than  two  hundred  miles  away. 
He  pictured  the  strange  colors  and  lights  of  the  place; 
ledges  of  rock,  yellow,  white  and  green,  drab  and 
maroon,  and  tumbled  piles  of  red  boulders,  shadowy 
buttes  in  the  distance,  serrated  cliffs  against  the 
horizon,  not  blue,  but  rosy  pink  in  the  heated  haze 
of  the  air,  and  perhaps  a  great,  lonely  eagle  poised 
above  the  silent,  brilliant  waste. 

He  told  it  not  in  book  language,  with  turn  of  phrase 
and  smoothly  flowing  sentences,  but  in  simple,  frank 
words,  as  a  boy  might  describe  a  picture  to  one  he 
knew  would  appreciate  it — for  her  sake,  and  not 
because  he  loved  to  put  it  into  words;  but  in  a  new, 
stumbling  way  letting  out  the  beauty  that  had  some- 
how crept  into  his  heart  in  spite  of  all  the  rough 
attempts  to  keep  all  gentle  things  out  of  his  nature. 

24 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

The  girl,  as  she  listened,  marveled  more  and  more 
what  manner  of  youth  this  might  be  who  had  come 
to  her  out  of  the  desert  night. 

She  forgot  her  weariness  as  she  listened,  in  the 
thrill  of  wonder  over  the  new  mysterious  country  to 
which  she  had  come.  She  forgot  that  she  was  riding 
through  the  great  darkness  with  an  utter  stranger, 
to  a  place  she  knew  not,  and  to  experiences 
most  dubious.  Her  fears  had  fled  and  she  was 
actually  enjoying  herself,  and  responding  to  the 
wonderful  story  of  the  place  with  soft-murmured  ex- 
clamations of  delight  and  wonder. 

From  time  to  time  in  the  distance  there  sounded 
forth  those  awful  blood-curdling  howls  of  wild 
beasts  that  she  had  heard  when  she  sat  alone  by 
the  water-tank,  and  each  time  she  heard  a  shudder 
passed  through  her  and  instinctively  she  swerved  a 
trifle  toward  her  companion,  then  straightened  up 
again  and  tried  to  seem  not  to  notice.  The  Boy  saw 
and  watched  her  brave  attempts  at  self-control  with 
deep  appreciation.  But  suddenly,  as  they  rode  and 
talked,  a  dark  form  appeared  across  their  way  a  little 
ahead,  lithe  and  stealthy  and  furry,  and  two  awful 
eyes  like  green  lamps  glared  for  an  instant,  then  dis- 
appeared silently  among  the  mesquite  bushes. 

She  did  not  cry  out  nor  start.  Her  very  veins 
seemed  frozen  with  horror,  and  she  could  not  have 
spoken  if  she  tried.  It  was  all  over  in  a  second  and 
the  creature  gone,  so  that  she  almost  doubted  her 
senses  and  wondered  if  she  had  seen  aright.  Then 
one  hand  went  swiftly  to  her  throat  and  she  shrank 
toward  her  companion. 

" There  is  nothing  to  fear,"  he  said,  reassuringly, 

25 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

and  laid  a  strong  hand  comfortingly  across  the  neck 
of  her  horse.  "The  pussy-cat  was  as  unwilling  for 
our  company  as  we  for  hers.  Besides,  look  here!" 
— and  he  raised  his  hand  and  shot  into  the  air. 
"She'll  not  come  near  us  now." 

"I  am  not  afraid!"  said  the  girl,  bravely.  "At 
least,  I  don't  think  I  am — very!  But  it's  all  so  new 
and  unexpected,  you  know.  Do  people  around  here 
always  shoot  in  that — well — unpremeditated  fash- 
ion?" 

They  laughed  together. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said.  "I  didn't  realize  the  shot 
might  startle  you  even  more  than  the  wildcat.  It 
seems  I'm  not  fit  to  have  charge  of  a  lady.  I  told 
you  I  was  a  roughneck." 

"You're  taking  care  of  me  beautifully,"  said 
Margaret  Earle,  loyally,  "and  I'm  glad  to  get 
used  to  shots  if  that's  the  thing  to  be  expected 
often." 

Just  then  they  came  to  the  top  of  the  low,  rolling 
hill,  and  ahead  in  the  darkness  there  gleamed  a  tiny, 
wizened  light  set  in  a  blotch  of  blackness.  Under 
the  great  white  stars  it  burned  a  sickly  red  and 
seemed  out  of  harmony  with  the  night. 

"There  we  are!"  said  the  Boy,  pointing  toward  it. 
"That's  the  bunk-house.  You  needn't  be  afraid. 
Pop  Wallis  '11  be  snoring  by  this  time,  and  we'll 
come  away  before  he's  about  in  the  morning.  He 
always  sleeps  late  after  he's  been  off  on  a  bout. 
He's  been  gone  three  days,  selling  some  cattle,  and 
he'll  have  a  pretty  good  top  on." 

The  girl  caught  her  breath,  gave  one  wistful  look 
up  at  the  wide,  starry  sky,  a  furtive  glance  at  the 

26 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

strong  face  of  her  protector,  and  submitted  to  being 
lifted  down  to  the  ground. 

Before  her  loomed  the  bunk-house,  small  and 
mean,  built  of  logs,  with  only  one  window  in  which 
the  flicker  of  the  lanterns  menaced,  with  unknown 
trials  and  possible  perils  for  her  to  meet. 


CHAPTER  IV 

WHEN  Margaret  Earle  dawned  upon  that  bunk- 
room  the  men  sat  up  with  one  accord,  ran  then* 
rough,  red  hands  through  their  rough,  tousled  hair, 
smoothed  then*  beards,  took  down  their  feet  from  the 
benches  where  they  were  resting.  That  was  as  far 
as  their  etiquette  led  them.  Most  of  them  continued 
to  smoke  their  pipes,  and  all  of  them  stared  at  her 
unreservedly.  Such  a  sight  of  exquisite  feminine 
beauty  had  not  come  to  their  eyes  in  many  a  long 
day.  Even  in  the  dim  light  of  the  smoky  lanterns, 
and  with  the  dust  and  weariness  of  travel  upon  her, 
Margaret  Earle  was  a  beautiful  girl. 

"That's  what's  the  matter,  father,"  said  her 
mother,  when  the  subject  of  Margaret's  going  West 
to  teach  had  first  been  mentioned.  "She's  too 
beautiful.  Far  too  beautiful  to  go  among  savages! 
If  she  were  homely  and  old,  now,  she  might  be  safe. 
That  would  be  a  different  matter." 

Yet  Margaret  had  prevailed,  and  was  here  in  the 
wild  country.  Now,  standing  on  the  threshold  of 
the  log  cabin,  she  read,  in  the  unveiled  admiration 
that  startled  from  the  eyes  of  the  men,  the  meaning 
of  her  mother's  fears. 

Yet  withal  it  was  a  kindly  admiration  not  un- 
mixed with  awe.  For  there  was  about  her  beauty 

28 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

a  touch  of  the  spiritual  which  set  her  above  the  com- 
mon run  of  women,  making  men  feel  her  purity  and 
sweetness,  and  inclining  their  hearts  to  worship 
rather  tfoan  be  bold. 

The  Boy  had  been  right.  Pop  Wallis  was  asleep 
and  out  of  the  way.  From  a  little  shed  room  at  one 
end  his  snoring  marked  time  in  the  silence  that  the 
advent  of  the  girl  made  in  the  place. 

In  the  doorway  of  the  kitehen  offset  Mom  Wallis 
stood  with  her  passionless  face — a  face  from  which 
all  emotions  had  long  ago  been  burned  by  cruel 
fires — and  looked  at  the  girl,  whose  expression  was 
vivid  with  her  opening  life  all  haloed  in  a  rosy  glow. 

A  kind  of  wistful  contortion  passed  over  Mom 
Wallis's  hopeless  countenance,  as  if  she  saw  before 
her  in  all  its  possibility  of  perfection  the  life  that 
she  herself  had  lost.  Perhaps  it  was  no  longer  pos- 
sible for  her  features  to  show  tenderness,  but  a  glow 
of  something  like  it  burned  in  her  eyes,  though  she 
only  turned  away  with  the  same  old  apathetic  air, 
and  without  a  word  went  about  preparing  a  meal 
for  the  stranger. 

Margaret  looked  wildly,  fearfully,  around  the 
rough  assemblage  when  she  first  entered  the  long, 
low  room,  but  instantly  the  boy  introduced  her  as 
"the  new  teacher  for  the  Ridge  School  beyond  the 
Junction,"  and  these  were  Long  Bill,  Big  Jim,  the 
Fiddling  Boss,  Jasper  Kemp,  Fade-away  Forbes, 
Stocky,  Croaker,  and  Fudge.  An  inspiration  fell 
upon  the  frightened  girl,  and  she  acknowledged  the 
introduction  by  a  radiant  smile,  followed  by  the 
offering  of  her  small  gloved  hand.  Each  man  in 
dumb  bewilderment  instantly  became  her  slave,  and 

3  29 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

accepted  the  offered  hand  with  more  or  less  pleasure 
and  embarrassment.  The  girl  proved  her  right  to 
be  called  tactful,  and,  seeing  her  advantage,  followed 
it  up  quickly  by  a  few  bright  words.  These  men 
were  of  an  utterly  different  type  from  any  she  had 
ever  met  before,  but  they  had  in  their  eyes  a  kind 
of  homage  which  Pop  Wallis  had  not  shown  and 
they  were  not  repulsive  to  her.  Besides,  the  Boy 
was  in  the  background,  and  her  nerve  had  returned. 
The  Boy  knew  how  a  lady  should  be  treated.  She 
was  quite  ready  to  "play  up"  to  his  lead. 

It  was  the  Boy  who  brought  the  only  chair  the 
bunk-house  afforded,  a  rude,  home-made  affair,  and 
helped  her  off  with  her  coat  and  hat  in  his  easy, 
friendly  way,  as  if  he  had  known  her  all  his  life; 
while  the  men,  to  whom  such  gallant  ways  were 
foreign,  sat  awkwardly  by  and  watched  in  wonder 
and  amaze. 

Most  of  all  they  were  astonished  at  "the  Kid," 
that  he  could  fall  so  naturally  into  intimate  talk 
with  this  delicate,  beautiful  woman.  She  was  an- 
other of  his  kind,  a  creature  not  made  in  the  same 
mold  as  theirs.  They  saw  it  now,  and  watched  the 
fairy  play  with  almost  childish  interest.  Just  to 
hear  her  call  him  "Mr.  Gardley"! — Lance  Gardley, 
that  was  what  he  had  told  them  was  his  name  the 
day  he  came  among  them.  They  had  not  heard  it 
since.  The  Kid!  Mr.  Gardley! 

There  it  was,  the  difference  between  them!  They 
looked  at  the  girl  half  jealously,  yet  proudly  at  the 
Boy.  He  was  theirs — yes,  in  a  way  he  was  theirs — 
had  they  not  found  him  in  the  wilderness,  sick  and 
nigh  to  death,  and  nursed  him  back  to  life  again? 

30 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

He  was  theirs;  but  he  knew  how  to  drop  into  her 
world,  too,  and  not  be  ashamed.  They  were  glad 
that  he  could,  even  while  it  struck  them  with  a  pang 
that  some  day  he  would  go  back  to  the  world  to 
which  he  belonged — and  where  they  could  never  be 
at  home. 

It  was  a  marvel  to  watch  her  eat  the  coarse  corn- 
bread  and  pork  that  Mom  Wallis  brought  her.  It 
might  have  been  a  banquet,  the  pleasant  way  she 
seemed  to  look  at  it.  Just  like  a  bird  she  tasted 
it  daintily,  and  smiled,  showing  her  white  teeth. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  idea  of  greediness  that 
each  man  knew  he  himself  felt  after  a  fast.  It  was 
all  beautiful,  the  way  she  handled  the  two-tined 
fork  and  the  old  steel  knife.  They  watched  and 
dropped  their  eyes  abashed  as  at  a  lovely  sacrament. 
They  had  not  felt  before  that  eating  could  be  an  art. 
They  did  not  know  what  art  meant. 

Such  strange  talk,  too!  But  the  Kid  seemed  to 
understand.  About  the  sky — their  old,  common 
sky,  with  stars  that  they  saw  every  night — making 
such  a  fuss  about  that,  with  words  like  "wide," 
"infinite,"  "azure,"  and  "gems."  Each  man  went 
furtively  out  that  night  before  he  slept  and  took  a 
new  look  at  the  sky  to  see  if  he  could  understand. 

The  Boy  was  planning  so  the  night  would  be  but 
brief.  He  knew  the  girl  was  afraid.  He  kept  the 
talk  going  enthusiastically,  drawing  hi  one  or  two 
of  the  men  now  and  again.  Long  Bill  forgot  himself 
and  laughed  out  a  hoarse  guffaw,  then  stopped  as  if 
he  had  been  choked.  Stocky,  red  in  the  face,  told 
a  funny  story  when  commanded  by  the  Boy,  and 
then  dissolved  in  mortification  over  his  blunders. 

31 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

The  Fiddling  Boss  obediently  got  down  his  fiddle 
from  the  smoky  corner  beside  the  fireplace  and 
played  a  weird  old  tune  or  two,  and  then  they  sang. 
First  the  men,  with  hoarse,  quavering  approach  and 
final  roar  of  wild  sweetness;  then  Margaret  and  the 
Boy  in  duet,  and  finally  Margaret  alone,  with  a  few 
bashful  chords  on  the  fiddle,  feeling  their  way  as  ac- 
companiment. 

Mom  Wallis  had  long  ago  stopped  her  work  and 
was  sitting  huddled  in  the  doorway  on  a  nail-keg 
with  weary,  folded  hands  and  a  strange  wistfulness 
on  her  apathetic  face.  A  fine  silence  had  settled  over 
the  group  as  the  girl,  recognizing  her  power,  and  the 
pleasure  she  was  giving,  sang  on.  Now  and  then 
the  Boy,  when  he  knew  the  song,  would  join  in  with 
his  rich  tenor. 

It  was  a  strange  night,  and  when  she  finally  lay 
down  to  rest  on  a  hard  cot  with  a  questionable- 
looking  blanket  for  covering  and  Mom.  Wallis  as  her 
room-mate,  Margaret  Earle  could  not  help  wondering 
what  her  mother  and  father  would  think  now  if  they 
could  see  her.  Would  they  not,  perhaps,  almost 
prefer  the  water-tank  and  the  lonely  desert  for  her 
to  her  present  surroundings? 

Nevertheless,  she  slept  soundly  after  her  terrible 
excitement,  and  woke  with  a  start  of  wonder  ki  the 
early  morning,  to  hear  the  men  outside  splashing 
water  and  humming  or  whistling  bits  of  the  tunes 
she  had  sung  to  them  the  night  before. 

Mom  Wallis  was  standing  over  her,  looking  down 
with  a  hunger  in  her  eyes  at  the  bright  waves 
of  Margaret's  hair  and  the  soft,  sleep -flushed 
cheeks. 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"You  got  dretful  purty  hair,"  said  Mom  Wallisy 
wistfully. 

Margaret  looked  up  and  smiled  in  acknowledgment 
of  the  compliment. 

"You  wouldn't  b'lieve  it,  but  I  was  young  an' 
purty  oncet.  Beats  all  how  much  it  counts  to  be 
young — an'  purty!  But  land!  It  don't  last  long. 
Make  the  most  of  it  while  you  got  it." 

Browning's  immortal  words  came  to  Margaret's 
lips — 

Grow  old  along  with  me, 

The  best  is  yet  to  be, 

The  last  of  life  for  which  the  first  was  made — 

but  she  checked  them  just  in  time  and  could  only 
smile  mutely.  How  could  she  speak  such  thoughts 
amid  these  intolerable  surroundings?  Then  with 
sudden  impulse  she  reached  up  to  the  astonished 
woman  and,  drawing  her  down,  kissed  her  sallow 
cheek. 

"Oh!"  said  Mom  Wallis,  starting  back  and  laying 
her  bony  hands  upon  the  place  where  she  had  been 
kissed,  as  if  it  hurt  her,  while  a  dull  red  stole  up 
from  her  neck  over  her  cheeks  and  high  forehead 
to  the  roots  of  her  hay-colored  hair.  All  at  once 
she  turned  her  back  upon  her  visitor  and  the  tears 
of  the  years  streamed  down  her  impassive  face. 

"Don't  mind  me,"  she  choked,  after  a  minute. 
"I  liked  it  real  good,  only  it  kind  of  give  me  a  turn." 
Then,  after  a  second:  "It's  time  t'  eat.  You  c'n 
wash  outside  after  the  men  is  done." 

That,  thought  Margaret,  had  been  the  scheme 
of  this  woman's  whole  life — "After  the  men  is  done!" 

33 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

So,  after  all,  the  night  was  passed  in  safety,  and 
a  wonderful  dawning  had  come.  The  blue  of  the 
morning,  so  different  from  the  blue  of  the  night 
sky,  was,  nevertheless,  just  as  unfathomable;  the 
air  seemed  filled  with  straying  star-beams,  so  spark- 
ling was  the  clearness  of  the  light. 

But  now  a  mountain  rose  in  the  distance  with 
heliotrope-and-purple  bounds  to  stand  across  the 
vision  and  dispel  the  illusion  of  the  night  that  the 
sky  came  down  to  the  earth  all  around  like  a  close- 
fitting  dome.  There  were  mountains  on  all  sides, 
and  a  slender,  dark  line  of  mesquite  set  off  the 
more  delicate  colorings  of  the  plain. 

Into  the  morning  they  rode,  Margaret  and  the 
Boy,  before  Pop  Wallis  was  yet  awake,  while  all  the 
other  men  stood  round  and  watched,  eager,  jealous 
for  the  handshake  and  the  parting  smile.  They 
told  her  they  hoped  she  would  come  again  and  sing 
for  them,  and  each  one  had  an  awkward  word  of 
parting.  Whatever  Margaret  Earle  might  do  with 
her  school,  she  had  won  seven  loyal  friends  in  the 
camp,  and  she  rode  away  amid  their  admiring 
glances,  which  lingered,  too,  on  the  broad  shoulders 
and  wide  sombrero  of  her  escort  riding  by  her  side. 

"Wai,  that's  the  end  o'  him,  I  'spose,"  drawled 
Long  Bill,  with  a  deep  sigh,  as  the  riders  passed  into 
the  valley  out  of  their  sight. 

"H'm!"  said  Jasper  Kemp,  hungrily.  "I  reck'n  he 
thinks  it's  jes'  th'  beginninM" 

"Maybe  so!     Maybe  so!"  said  Big  Jim,  dreamily. 

The  morning  was  full  of  wonder  for  the  girl  who 
had  come  straight  from  an  Eastern  city.  The  view 
from  the  top  of  the  mesa,  or  the  cool,  dim  entrance 

34 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

of  a  canon  where  great  ferns  fringed  and  feathered 
its  walls,  and  strange  caves  hollowed  out  in  the  rocks 
far  above,  made  real  the  stories  she  had  read  of  the 
cave-dwellers.  It  was  a  new  world. 

The  Boy  was  charming.  She  could  not  have 
picked  out  among  her  city  acquaintances  a  man  who 
would  have  done  the  honors  of  the  desert  more  de- 
lightfully than  he.  She  had  thought  him  handsome 
in  the  starlight  and  in  the  lantern-light  the  night 
before,  but  now  that  the  morning  shone  upon  him 
she  could  not  keep  from  looking  at  him.  His  fresh 
color,  which  no  wind  and  weather  could  quite  sub- 
due, his  gray-blue  eyes  with  that  mixture  of  thought- 
fulness  and  reverence  and  daring,  his  crisp,  brown 
curls  glinting  with  gold  in  the  sunlight — all  made 
him  good  to  look  upon.  There  was  something  about 
the  firm  set  of  his  lips  and  chin  that  made  her  feel 
a  hidden  strength  about  him. 

When  they  camped  a  little  while  for  lunch  he 
showed  the  thoughtfulness  and  care  for  her  comfort 
that  many  an  older  man  might  not  have  had.  Even 
his  talk  was  a  mixture  of  boyishness  and  experience 
and  he  seemed  to  know  her  thoughts  before  she  had 
them  fully  spoken. 

"I  do  not  understand  it,"  she  said,  looking  him 
frankly  in  the  eyes  at  last.  "How  ever  in  the  world 
did  one  like  you  get  landed  among  all  those  dreadful 
men!  Of  course,  in  their  way,  some  of  them  are 
not  so  bad;  but  they  are  not  like  you,  not  in  the 
least,  and  never  could  be." 

They  were  riding  out  upon  the  plain  now  in  the 
full  afternoon  light,  and  a  short  time  would  bring 
them  to  her  destination. 

35 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

A  sad,  set  look  came  quickly  into  the  Boy's  eyes 
and  his  face  grew  almost  hard. 

"It's  an  old  story.  I  suppose  you've  heard  it 
before/7  he  said,  and  his  voice  tried  to  take  on  a 
careless  note,  but  failed.  "I  didn't  make  good  back 
there" — he  waved  his  hand  sharply  toward  the 
East — "so  I  came  out  here  to  begin  again.  But  I 
guess  I  haven't  made  good  here,  either — not  in  the 
way  I  meant  when  I  came." 

"You  can't,  you  know,"  said  Margaret.  "Not 
here." 

"Why?"  He  looked  at  her  earnestly,  as  if  he  felt 
the  answer  might  help  him. 

"Because  you  have  to  go  back  where  you  didn't 
make  good  and  pick  up  the  lost  opportunities.  You 
can't  really  make  good  till  you  do  that  right  where 
you  left  off:1 

"But  suppose  it's  too  late?" 

"It's  never  too  late  if  we're  in  earnest  and  not 
too  proud." 

There  was  a  long  silence  then,  while  the  Boy 
looked  thoughtfully  off  at  the  mountains,  and  when 
he  spoke  again  it  was  to  call  attention  to  the  beauty 
of  a  silver  cloud  that  floated  lazily  on  the  horizon. 
But  Margaret  Earle  had  seen  the  look  in  his  gray 
eyes  and  was  not  deceived. 

A  few  minutes  later  they  crossed  another  mesa 
and  descended  to  the  enterprising  little  town  where 
the  girl  was  to  begin  her  winter's  work.  The  very 
houses  and  streets  seemed  to  rise  briskly  and  hasten 
to  meet  them  those  last  few  minutes  of  their  ride. 

Now  that  the  experience  was  almost  over,  the 

girl  realized  that  she  had  enjoyed  it  intensely,  and 

36 


A   VOICE   IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

that  she  dreaded  inexpressibly  that  she  must  bid 
good-by  to  this  friend  of  a  few  hours  and  face  an 
unknown  world.  It  had  been  a  wonderful  day,  and 
now  it  was  almost  done.  The  two  looked  at  each 
other  and  realized  that  their  meeting  had  been 
an  epoch  in  their  lives  that  neither  would  soon  for- 
neither  wanted  to  forget. 


CHAPTER  V 

SLOWER  the  horses  walked,  and  slower.  The 
voices  of  the  Boy  and  girl  were  low  when  they 
spoke  about  the  common  things  by  the  wayside. 
Once  their  eyes  met,  and  they  smiled  with  something 
both  sad  and  glad  in  them. 

Margaret  was  watching  the  young  man  by  her 
side  and  wondering  at  herself.  He  was  different 
from  any  man  whose  life  had  come  near  to  hers 
before.  He  was  wild  and  worldly,  she  could  see 
that,  and  unrestrained  by  many  of  the  things  that 
were  vital  principles  with  her,  and  yet  she  felt 
strangely  drawn  to  him  and  wonderfully  at  home  hi 
his  company.  She  could  not  understand  herself 
nor  him.  It  was  as  if  his  real  soul  had  looked  out 
of  his  eyes  and  spoken,  untrammeled  by  the  circum- 
stances of  birth  or  breeding  or  habit,  and  she  knew 
him  for  a  kindred  spirit.  And  yet  he  was  far  from 
being  one  in  whom  she  would  have  expected  even 
to  find  a  friend.  Where  was  her  confidence  of  yes- 
terday? Why  was  it  that  she  dreaded  to  have  this 
strong  young  protector  leave  her  to  meet  alone  a 
world  of  strangers,  whom  yesterday  at  this  time 
she  would  have  gladly  welcomed? 

Now,  when  his  face  grew  thoughtful  and  sad,  she 
saw  the  hard,  bitter  lines  that  were  beginning  to  be 

38 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

graven  about  his  lips,  and  her  heart  ached  over 
what  he  had  said  about  not  making  good.  She 
wondered  if  there  was  anything  else  she  could  say 
to  help  him,  but  no  words  came  to  her,  and  the 
sad,  set  look  about  his  lips  warned  her  that  perhaps 
she  had  said  enough.  He  was  not  one  who  needed 
a  long  dissertation  to  bring  a  thought  home  to  his 
consciousness. 

Gravely  they  rode  to  the  station  to  see  about 
Margaret's  trunks  and  make  inquiries  for  the 
school  and  the  house  where  she  had  arranged  to 
board.  Then  Margaret  sent  a  telegram  to  her 
mother  to  say  that  she  had  arrived  safely,  and  so, 
when  all  was  done  and  there  was  no  longer  an  excuse 
for  lingering,  the  Boy  realized  that  he  must  leave  her. 

They  stood  alone  for  just  a  moment  while  the 
voluble  landlady  went  to  attend  to  something  that 
was  boiling  over  on  the  stove.  It  was  an  ugly  little 
parlor  that  was  to  be  her  reception-room  for  the  next 
year  at  least,  with  red-and-green  ingrain  carpet  of 
ancient  pattern,  hideous  chromos  on  the  walls,  and 
frantically  common  furniture  setting  up  in  its  shin- 
ing varnish  to  be  pretentious;  but  the  girl  had  not 
seen  it  yet.  She  was  filled  with  a  great  homesick- 
ness that  had  not  possessed  her  even  when  she  said 
good-by  to  her  dear  ones  at  home.  She  suddenly 
realized  that  the  people  with  whom  she  was  to  be 
thrown  were  of  another  world  from  hers,  and  this 
one  friend  whom  she  had  found  in  the  desert  was 
leaving  her. 

She  tried  to  shake  hands  formally  and  tell  him  how 
grateful  she  was  to  him  for  rescuing  her  from  the 
perils  of  the  night,  but  somehow  words  seemed  so 

39 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

inadequate,  and  tears  kept  crowding  their  way  into 
her  throat  and  eyes.  Absurd  it  was,  and  he  a 
stranger  twenty  hours  before,  and  a  man  of  other 
ways  than  hers,  besides.  Yet  he  was  her  friend  and 
rescuer. 

She  spoke  her  thanks  as  well  as  she  could,  and 
then  looked  up,  a  swift,  timid  glance,  and  found  his 
eyes  upon  her  earnestly  and  troubled. 

"Don't  thank  me,"  he  said,  huskily.  "I  guess  it 
was  the  best  thing  I  ever  did,  finding  you.  I  sha'n't 
forget,  even  if  you  never  let  me  see  you  again — and 
— I  hope  you  will."  His  eyes  searched  hers  wist- 
fully. 

"Of  course,"  she  said.     "Why  not?" 

"I  thank  you,"  he  said  in  quaint,  courtly  fashion, 
bending  low  over  her  hand.  "I  shall  try  to  be 
worthy  of  the  honor." 

And  so  saying,  he  left  her  and,  mounting  his  horse, 
rode  away  into  the  lengthening  shadows  of  the  after- 
noon. 

She  stood  in  the  forlorn  little  room  staring  out 
of  the  window  after  her  late  companion,  a  sense  of 
utter  desolation  upon  her.  For  the  moment  all  her 
brave  hopes  of  the  future  had  fled,  and  if  she  could 
have  slipped  unobserved  out  of  the  front  door, 
down  to  the  station,  and  boarded  some  waiting  ex- 
press to  her  home,  she  would  gladly  have  done  it 
then  and  there. 

Try  as  she  would  to  summon  her  former  reasons 
for  coming  to  this  wild,  she  could  not  think  of  one 
of  them,  and  her  eyes  were  very  near  to  tears. 

But  Margaret  Earle  was  not  given  to  tears,  and 
as  she  felt  them  smart  beneath  her  lids  she  turned 

40 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

in  a  panic  to  prevent  them.  She  could  not  afford 
to  cry  now.  Mrs.  Tanner  would  be  returning,  and 
she  must  not  find  the  "new  schoolma'am"  weeping. 

With  a  glance  she  swept  the  meager,  pretentious 
room,  and  then,  suddenly,  became  aware  of  other 
presences.  In  the  doorway  stood  a  man  and  a 
dog,  both  regarding  her  intently  with  open  surprise, 
not  unmixed  with  open  appraisement  and  a  marked 
degree  of  admiration. 

The  man  was  of  medium  height,  slight,  with  a 
putty  complexion;  cold,  pale-blue  eyes;  pale,  straw- 
colored  hair,  and  a  look  of  self-indulgence  around 
his  rather  weak  mouth.  He  was  dressed  in  a  city 
business  suit  of  the  latest  cut,  however,  and  looked 
as  much  out  of  place  hi  that  crude  little  house  as 
did  Margaret  Earle  herself  in  her  simple  gown  of 
dark-blue  crepe  and  her  undeniable  air  of  style  and 
good  taste. 

His  eyes,  as  they  regarded  her,  had  in  them  a 
smile  that  the  girl  instinctively  resented.  Was  it  a 
shade  too  possessive  and  complacently  sure  for  a 
stranger? 

The  dog,  a  large  collie,  had  great,  liquid,  brown 
eyes,  menacing  or  loyal,  as  circumstances  dictated, 
and  regarded  her  with  an  air  of  brief  indecision.  She 
felt  she  was  being  weighed  in  the  balance  by  both 
pairs  of  eyes.  Of  the  two  the  girl  preferred  the  dog. 

Perhaps  the  dog  understood,  for  he  came  a  pace 
nearer  and  waved  his  plumy  tail  tentatively.  For 
the  dog  she  felt  a  glow  of  friendliness  at  once,  but 
for  the  man  she  suddenly,  and  most  unreasonably, 
of  course,  conceived  one  of  her  violent  and  unex- 
pected dislikes. 

41 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Into  this  tableau  bustled  Mrs.  Tanner.  "Well, 
now,  I  didn't  go  to  leave  you  by  your  lonesome  all 
this  time,"  she  apologized,  wiping  her  hands  on  her 
apron,  "but  them  beans  boiled  clean  over,  and  I 
hed  to  put  'em  in  a  bigger  kettle.  You  see,  I  put 
in  more  beans  'count  o'  you  bein'  here,  an'  I  ain't 
uset  to  calca'latin'  on  two  extry."  She  looked  hap- 
pily from  the  man  to  the  girl  and  back  again. 

"Mr.  West,  I  'spose,  o'  course,  you  inter juced 
yerself?  Bein'  a  preacher,  you  don't  hev  to  stan' 
on  ceremony  like  the  rest  of  mankind.  You  'ain't? 
Well,  let  me  hev  the  pleasure  of  inter jucin'  our  new 
school-teacher,  Miss  Margaret  Earle.  I  'spect  you 
two  '11  be  awful  chummy  right  at  the  start,  both 
bein'  from  the  East  that  way,  an'  both  hevin'  ben 
to  college." 

Margaret  Earle  acknowledged  the  bow  with  a 
cool  little  inclination  of  her  head.  She  wondered 
why  she  didn't  hate  the  garrulous  woman  who 
rattled  on  in  this  happy,  take-it-for-granted  way; 
but  there  was  something  so  innocently  pleased  in 
her  manner  that  she  couldn't  help  putting  all  her 
wrath  on  the  smiling  man  who  came  forward  in- 
stantly with  a  low  bow  and  a  voice  of  fulsome 
flattery. 

"Indeed,  Miss  Earle,  I  assure  you  I  am  happily 
surprised.  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Tanner's  prophecy  will 
come  true  and  we  shall  be  the  best  of  friends. 
When  they  told  me  the  new  teacher  was  to  board 
here  I  really  hesitated.  I  have  seen  something  of 
these  Western  teachers  in  my  time,  and  scarcely 
thought  I  should  find  you  congenial;  but  I  can  see 
at  a  glance  that  you  are  the  exception  to  the  rule." 

42 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

He  presented  a  soft,  unmanly  white  hand,  and 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  take  it  or  seem  rude  to 
her  hostess;  but  her  manner  was  like  icicles,  and 
she  was  thankful  she  had  not  yet  removed  her 
gloves. 

If  the  reverend  gentleman  thought  he  was  to 
enjoy  a  lingering  hand-clasp  he  was  mistaken,  for 
the  gloved  finger-tips  merely  touched  his  hand  and 
were  withdrawn,  and  the  girl  turned  to  her  hostess 
with  a  smile  of  finality  as  if  he  were  dismissed.  He 
did  not  seem  disposed  to  take  the  hint  and  with- 
draw, however,  until  on  a  sudden  the  great  dog 
came  and  stood  between  them  with  open-mouthed 
welcome  and  joyous  greeting  in  the  plumy,  wagging 
tail.  He  pushed  close  to  her  and  looked  up  into  her 
face  insistently,  his  hanging  pink  tongue  and  wide, 
smiling  countenance  proclaiming  that  he  was  satis- 
fied with  his  investigation. 

Margaret  looked  down  at  him,  and  then  stooped 
and  put  her  arms  about  his  neck.  Something  hi  his 
kindly  dog  expression  made  her  feel  suddenly  as  if 
she  had  a  real  friend. 

It  seemed  the  man,  however,  did  not  like  the 
situation.  He  kicked  gingerly  at  the  dog's  hind 
legs,  and  said  in  a  harsh  voice: 

"Get  out  of  the  way,  sir.  You're  annoying  the 
lady.  Get  out,  I  say!" 

The  dog,  however,  uttered  a  low  growl  and  merely 
showed  the  whites  of  his  menacing  eyes  at  the  man, 
turning  his  body  slightly  so  that  he  stood  across 
the  lady's  way  protectingly,  as  if  to  keep  the  man 
from  her. 

Margaret  smiled  at  the  dog  and  laid  her  hand  on 

43 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

his  head,  as  if  to  signify  her  acceptance  of  the  friend- 
ship he  had  offered  her,  and  he  waved  his  plume  once 
more  and  attended  her  from  the  room,  neither  of 
them  giving  further  attention  to  the  man. 

"Confound  that  dog!"  said  Rev.  Frederick  West, 
in  a  most  unpreacher-like  tone,  as  he  walked  to  the 
window  and  looked  out.  Then  to  himself  he  mused : 
"A  pretty  girl.  A  very  pretty  girl.  I  really  think 
it  '11  be  worth  my  while  to  stay  a  month  at  least." 

Up  in  her  room  the  "very  pretty  girl"  was  un- 
packing her  suit-case  and  struggling  with  the  tears. 
Not  since  she  was  a  wee  little  girl  and  went  to 
school  all  alone  for  the  first  time  had  she  felt  so  very 
forlorn,  and  it  was  the  little  bare  bedroom  that  had 
done  it.  At  least  that  had  been  the  final  straw  that 
had  made  too  great  the  burden  of  keeping  down 
those  threatening  tears. 

It  was  only  a  bare,  plain  room  with  unfinished 
walls,  rough  woodwork,  a  cheap  wooden  bed,  a  bureau 
with  a  warped  looking-glass,  and  on  the  floor  was  a 
braided  rug  of  rags.  A  little  wooden  rocker,  another 
small,  straight  wooden  chair,  a  hanging  wall-pocket 
decorated  with  purple  roses,  a  hanging  bookshelf 
composed  of  three  thin  boards  strung  together  with 
maroon  picture  cord,  a  violently  colored  picture- 
card  of  "Moses  in  the  Bulrushes"  framed  in  straws 
and  red  worsted,  and  bright-blue  paper  shades  at 
the  windows.  That  was  the  room! 

How  different  from  her  room  at  home,  simply 
and  sweetly  finished  anew  for  her  home-coming  from 
college1!  It  rose  before  her  homesick  vision  now. 
Soft  gray  walls,  rose-colored  ceiling,  blended  by  a 
wreath  of  exquisite  wild  roses,  whose  pattern  was 

44 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

repeated  in  the  border  of  the  simple  curtains  and 
chair  cushions,  white-enamel  furniture,  pretty  brass 
bed  soft  as  down  in  its  luxurious  mattress,  spotless 
and  inviting  always.  She  glanced  at  the  humpy  bed 
with  its  fringed  gray  spread  and  lumpy-looking  pil- 
lows in  dismay.  She  had  not  thought  of  little  dis- 
comforts like  that,  yet  how  they  loomed  upon  her 
weary  vision  now! 

The  tiny  wooden  stand  with  its  thick,  white 
crockery  seemed  ill  substitute  for  the  dainty  white 
bath-room  at  home.  She  had  known  she  would  not 
have  her  home  luxuries,  of  course,  but  she  had  not 
realized  until  set  down  amid  these  barren  surround- 
ings what  a  difference  they  would  make. 

Going  to  the  window  and  looking  out,  she  saw  for 
the  first  tune  the  one  luxury  the  little  room  possessed 
• — a  view!  And  such  a  view!  Wide  and  wonderful 
and  far  it  stretched,  in  colors  unmatched  by  paint- 
er's brush,  a  purple  mountain  topped  by  rosy  clouds 
in  the  distance.  For  the  second  tune  in  Arizona 
her  soul  was  lifted  suddenly  out  of  itself  and  its  dis- 
may by  a  vision  of  the  things  that  God  has  made 
and  the  largeness  of  it  all. 


CHAPTER  VI 

FOR  some  time  she  stood  and  gazed,  marveling 
at  the  beauty  and  recalling  some  of  the  things 
her  companion  of  the  afternoon  had  said  about  his 
impressions  of  the  place;  then  suddenly  there 
loomed  a  dark  speck  in  the  near  foreground  of  her 
meditation,  and,  looking  down  annoyed,  she  dis- 
covered the  minister  like  a  gnat  between  the  eye 
and  a  grand  spectacle,  his  face  turned  admiringly 
up  to  her  window,  his  hand  lifted  in  familiar  greet- 
ing. 

Vexed  at  his  familiarity,  she  turned  quickly  and 
jerked  down  the  shade;  then  throwing  herself  on 
the  bed,  she  had  a  good  cry.  Her  nerves  were  ter- 
ribly wrought  up.  Things  seemed  twisted  in  her 
mind,  and  she  felt  that  she  had  reached  the  limit 
of  her  endurance.  Here  was  she,  Margaret  Earte, 
newly  elected  teacher  to  the  Ashland  Ridge  School, 
lying  on  her  bed  in  tears,  when  she  ought  to  be 
getting  settled  and  planning  her  new  life;  when  the 
situation  demanded  her  best  attention  she  was 
wrought  up  over  a  foolish  little  personal  dislike. 
Why  did  she  have  to  dislike  a  minister,  anyway, 
and  then  take  to  a  wild  young  fellow  whose  life 
thus  far  had  been  anything  but  satisfactory  even 
to  himself?  Was  it  her  perverse  nature  that  caused 

46 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

her  to  remember  the  look  in  the  eyes  of  the  Boy 
who  had  rescued  her  from  a  night  in  the  wilderness, 
and  to  feel  there  was  far  more  manliness  hi  his  face 
than  hi  the  face  of  the  man  whose  profession  surely 
would  lead  one  to  suppose  he  was  more  worthy  of 
her  respect  and  interest?  Well,  she  was  tired.  Per- 
haps things  would  assume  their  normal  relation  to 
one  another  hi  the  morning.  And  so,  after  a  few 
minutes,  she  bathed  her  face  in  the  little,  heavy, 
iron-stone  wash-bowl,  combed  her  hair,  and  fresh- 
ened the  collar  and  ruffles  in  her  sleeves  preparatory 
to  going  down  for  the  evening  meal.  Then,  with  a 
swift  thought,  she  searched  through  her  suit-case 
for  every  available  article  wherewith  to  brighten 
that  forlorn  room. 

The  dainty  dressing-case  of  Dresden  silk  with 
rosy  ribbons  that  her  girl  friends  at  home  had  given 
as  a  parting  gift  covered  a  generous  portion  of  the 
pine  bureau,  and  when  she  had  spread  it  out  and 
bestowed  its  silver-mounted  brushes,  combs,  hand- 
glass, and  pretty  sachet,  things  seemed  to  brighten 
up  a  bit.  She  hung  up  a  cobweb  of  a  lace  boudoir 
cap  with  its  rose-colored  ribbons  over  the  bleary 
mirror,  threw  her  kimono  of  flowered  challis  over  the 
back  of  the  rocker,  arranged  her  soap  and  tooth- 
brush, her  own  wash-rag  and  a  towel  brought  from 
home  on  the  wash-stand,  and  somehow  felt  better 
and  more  as  if  she  belonged.  Last  she  ranged  her 
precious  photographs  of  father  and  mother  and  the 
dear  vine-covered  church  and  manse  across  in  front 
of  the  mirror.  When  her  trunks  came  there  would 
be  other  things,  and  she  could  bear  it,  perhaps, 
when  she  had  this  room  buried  deep  in  the  home 

47 


CHAPTER  VI 

FOR  some  time  she  stood  and  gazed,  marveling 
at  the  beauty  and  recalling  some  of  the  things 
her  companion  of  the  afternoon  had  said  about  his 
impressions  of  the  place;  then  suddenly  there 
loomed  a  dark  speck  in  the  near  foreground  of  her 
meditation,  and,  looking  down  annoyed,  she  dis- 
covered the  minister  like  a  gnat  between  the  eye 
and  a  grand  spectacle,  his  face  turned  admiringly 
up  to  her  window,  his  hand  lifted  in  familiar  greet- 
ing. 

Vexed  at  his  familiarity,  she  turned  quickly  and 
jerked  down  the  shade;  then  throwing  herself  on 
the  bed,  she  had  a  good  cry.  Her  nerves  were  ter- 
ribly wrought  up.  Things  seemed  twisted  in  her 
mind,  and  she  felt  that  she  had  reached  the  limit 
of  her  endurance.  Here  was  she,  Margaret  Earle, 
newly  elected  teacher  to  the  Ashland  Ridge  School, 
lying  on  her  bed  hi  tears,  when  she  ought  to  be 
getting  settled  and  planning  her  new  life;  when  the 
situation  demanded  her  best  attention  she  was 
wrought  up  over  a  foolish  little  personal  dislike. 
Why  did  she  have  to  dislike  a  minister,  anyway, 
and  then  take  to  a  wild  young  fellow  whose  life 
thus  far  had  been  anything  but  satisfactory  even 
to  himself?  Was  it  her  perverse  nature  that  caused 

46 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

her  to  remember  the  look  in  the  eyes  of  the  Boy 
who  had  rescued  her  from  a  night  in  the  wilderness, 
and  to  feel  there  was  far  more  manliness  hi  his  face 
than  in  the  face  of  the  man  whose  profession  surely 
would  lead  one  to  suppose  he  was  more  worthy  of 
her  respect  and  interest?  Well,  she  was  tired.  Per- 
haps things  would  assume  their  normal  relation  to 
one  another  hi  the  morning.  And  so,  after  a  few 
minutes,  she  bathed  her  face  in  the  little,  heavy, 
iron-stone  wash-bowl,  combed  her  hair,  and  fresh- 
ened the  collar  and  ruffles  in  her  sleeves  preparatory 
to  going  down  for  the  evening  meal.  Then,  with  a 
swift  thought,  she  searched  through  her  suit-case 
for  every  available  article  wherewith  to  brighten 
that  forlorn  room. 

The  dainty  dressing-case  of  Dresden  silk  with 
rosy  ribbons  that  her  girl  friends  at  home  had  given 
as  a  parting  gift  covered  a  generous  portion  of  the 
pine  bureau,  and  when  she  had  spread  it  out  and 
bestowed  its  silver-mounted  brushes,  combs,  hand- 
glass, and  pretty  sachet,  things  seemed  to  brighten 
up  a  bit.  She  hung  up  a  cobweb  of  a  lace  boudoir 
cap  with  its  rose-colored  ribbons  over  the  bleary 
mirror,  threw  her  kimono  of  flowered  challis  over  the 
back  of  the  rocker,  arranged  her  soap  and  tooth- 
brush, her  own  wash-rag  and  a  towel  brought  from 
home  on  the  wash-stand,  and  somehow  felt  better 
and  more  as  if  she  belonged.  Last  she  ranged  her 
precious  photographs  of  father  and  mother  and  the 
dear  vine-covered  church  and  manse  across  hi  front 
of  the  mirror.  When  her  trunks  came  there  would 
be  other  things,  and  she  could  bear  it,  perhaps, 
when  she  had  this  room  buried  deep  in  the  home 

47 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

The  boy's  face  lit  with  a  smile,  and  he  turned  a 
keen,  appreciative  look  at  the  new  teacher,  for  the 
first  tune  genuinely  interested  in  her.  "  Cap's  a 
good  old  scout,"  he  admitted. 

"So  his  name  is  Cap.  Is  that  short  for  any- 
thing?" 

"Cap'n." 

"  Captain.  What  a  good  name  for  him.  He  looks 
as  if  he  were  a  captain,  and  he  waves  that  tail 
grandly,  almost  as  if  it  might  be  a  badge  of  office. 
But  who  are  you?  You  haven't  told  me  your  name 
yet?  Are  you  Mrs.  Tanner's  son?" 

The  boy  nodded.     "I'm  just  Bud  Tanner." 

"Then  you  are  one  of  my  pupils,  aren't  you?  We 
must  shake  hands  on  that."  She  put  out  her  hand, 
but  she  was  forced  to  go  out  after  Bud's  reluctant 
red  fist,  take  it  by  force  in  a  strange  grasp,  and  do 
all  the  shaking;  for  Bud  had  never  had  that  experi- 
ence before  in  his  life,  and  he  emerged  from  it  with 
a  very  red  face  and  a  feeling  as  if  his  right  arm  had 
been  somehow  lifted  out  of  the  same  class  with  the 
rest  of  his  body.  It  was  rather  awful,  too,  that  it 
happened  just  in  the  open  dining-room  door,  and 
that  "preacher-boarder"  watched  the  whole  per- 
formance. Bud  put  on  an  extra-deep  frown  and 
shuffled  away  from  the  teacher,  making  a  great 
show  of  putting  Cap  out  of  the  dining-room,  though 
he  always  sat  behind  his  master's  chair  at  meals, 
much  to  the  discomfiture  of  the  male  boarder,  who 
was  slightly  in  awe  of  his  dogship,  not  having  been 
admitted  into  friendship  as  the  lady  had  been. 

Mr.  West  stood  back  of  his  chair,  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  the  new  boarder,  an  expectant  smile  on 

50 


A   VOICE   IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

his  face,  and  rubbing  his  hands  together  with  much 
the  same  effect  as  a  wolf  licking  his  lips  in  anticipa- 
tion of  a  victim.  In  spite  of  her  resolves  to  like  the 
man,  Margaret  was  again  struck  with  aversion  as 
she  saw  him  standing  there,  and  was  intensely  re- 
lieved when  she  found  that  the  seat  assigned  to  her 
was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  from  him,  and 
beside  Bud.  West,  however,  did  not  seem  to  be 
pleased  with  the  arrangement,  and,  stepping  around 
the  table,  said  to  his  landlady: 

"Did  you  mean  me  to  sit  over  here?"  and  he 
placed  a  possessive  hand  on  the  back  of  the  chair 
that  was  meant  for  Bud. 

"No,  Mister  West,  you  jest  set  where  you  ben 
settm',"  responded  Mrs.  Tanner.  She  had  thought 
the  matter  all  out  and  decided  that  the  minister 
could  converse  with  the  teacher  to  the  better  ad- 
vantage of  the  whole  table  if  he  sat  across  from  her. 
Mrs.  Tanner  was  a  born  match-maker.  This  she 
felt  was  an  opportunity  not  to  be  despised,  even  if 
it  sometime  robbed  the  Ridge  School  of  a  desirable 
teacher. 

But  West  did  not  immediately  return  to  his  place 
at  the  other  side  of  the  table.  To  Margaret's  ex- 
treme annoyance  he  drew  her  chair  and  waited  for 
her  to  sit  down.  The  situation,  however,  was  some- 
what relieved  of  its  intimacy  by  a  sudden  interfer- 
ence from  Cap,  who  darted  away  from  his  frowning 
master  and  stepped  up  authoritatively  to  the  min- 
ister's side  with  a  low  growl,  as  if  to  say: 

"Hands  off  that  chair!  That  doesn't  belong  to 
you!" 

West  suddenly  released  his  hold  on  the  chair  with- 

51 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

out  waiting  to  shove  it  up  to  the  table,  and  pre- 
cipitately retired  to  his  own  place.  "That  dog's 
a  nuisance !"  he  said,  testily,  and  was  answered  with 
a  glare  from  Bud's  dark  eyes. 

Bud  came  to  his  seat  with  his  eyes  still  set  savagely 
on  the  minister,  and  Cap  settled  down  protectingly 
behind  Margaret's  chair. 

Mrs.  Tanner  bustled  hi  with  the  coffee-pot,  and 
Mr.  Tanner  came  last,  having  just  finished  his 
rather  elaborate  hair-comb  at  the  kitchen  glass  with 
the  kitchen  comb,  in  full  view  of  the  assembled  multi- 
tude. He  was  a  little,  thin,  wiry,  weather-beaten 
man,  with  skin  like  leather  and  sparse  hair.  Some 
of  his  teeth  were  missing,  leaving  deep  hollows  in 
his  cheeks,  and  his  kindly  protruding  chin  was  cov- 
ered with  scraggy  gray  whiskers,  which  stuck  out 
ahead  of  him  like  a  cow-catcher.  He  was  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves and  collarless,  but  looked  neat  and  clean, 
and  he  greeted  the  new  guest  heartily  before  he  sat 
down,  and  nodded  to  the  minister: 

"Naow,  Brother  West,  I  reckon  we're  ready  fer 
your  part  o'  the  performance.  You'll  please  to  say 
grace." 

Mr.  West  bowed  his  sleek,  yellow  head  and  mut- 
tered a  formal  blessing  with  an  offhand  manner,  as 
if  it  were  a  mere  ceremony.  Bud  stared  contemptu- 
ously at  him  the  while,  and  Cap  uttered  a  low  rumble 
as  of  a  distant  growl.  Margaret  felt  a  sudden  desire 
to  laugh,  and  tried  to  control  herself,  wondering 
what  her  father  would  feel  about  it  all. 

The  genial  clatter  of  knives  and  forks  broke  the 
stiffness  after  the  blessing.  Mrs.  Tanner  bustled 
back  and  forth  from  the  stove  to  the  table,  talking 

52 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

clamorously  the  while.  Mr.  Tanner  joined  in  with 
his  flat,  nasal  twang,  responding,  and  the  minister, 
with  an  air  of  utter  contempt  for  them  both,  en- 
deavored to  set  up  a  separate  and  altogether  private 
conversation  with  Margaret  across  the  narrow  table; 
but  Margaret  innocently  had  begun  a  conversation 
with  Bud  about  the  school,  and  had  to  be  addressed 
by  name  each  time  before  Mr.  West  could  get  her 
attention.  Bud,  with  a  boy's  keenness,  noticed  her 
aversion,  and  put  aside  his  own  backwardness, 
entering  into  the  contest  with  remarkably  voluble 
replies.  The  minister,  if  he  would  be  in  the  talk  at 
all,  was  forced  to  join  in  with  theirs,  and  found  him- 
self worsted  and  contradicted  by  the  boy  at  every 
turn. 

Strange  to  say,  however,  this  state  of  things  only 
served  to  make  the  man  more  eager  to  talk  with  the 
lady.  She  was  not  anxious  for  his  attention.  Ah! 
She  was  coy,  and  the  acquaintance  was  to  have  the 
zest  of  being  no  lightly  won  friendship.  All  the 
better.  He  watched  her  as  she  talked,  noted  every 
charm  of  lash  and  lid  and  curving  lip;  stared  so 
continually  that  she  finally  gave  up  looking  his  way 
at  all,  even  when  she  was  obliged  to  answer  his 
questions. 

Thus,  at  last,  the  first  meal  in  the  new  home  was 
concluded,  and  Margaret,  pleading  excessive  weari- 
ness, went  to  her  room.  She  felt  as  if  she  could  not 
endure  another  half-hour  of  contact  with  her  pres- 
ent world  until  she  had  had  some  rest.  If  the  world 
had  been  just  Bud  and  the  dog  she  could  have 
stayed  below  stairs  and  found  out  a  little  more 
about  the  new  life;  but  with  that  oily-mouthed 

53 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

minister  continually  butting  in  her  soul  was  in  a 
tumult. 

When  she  had  prepared  for  rest  she  put  out  her 
light  and  drew  up  the  shade.  There  before  her 
spread  the  wide  wonder  of  the  heavens  again,  with 
the  soft  purple  of  the  mountain  under  stars;  and 
she  was  carried  back  to  the  experience  of  the  night 
before  with  a  vivid  memory  of  her  companion. 
Why,  just  why  couldn't  she  be  as  interested  in  the 
minister  down  there  as  in  the  wild  young  man? 
Well,  she  was  too  tired  to-night  to  analyze  it  all, 
and  she  knelt  beside  her  window  hi  the  starlight 
to  pray.  As  she  prayed  her  thoughts  were  on 
Lance  Gardley  once  more,  and  she  felt  her  heart  go 
out  hi  longing  for  him,  that  he  might  find  a  way  to 
"make  good/'  whatever  his  trouble  had  been. 

As  she  rose  to  retire  she  heard  a  step  below,  and, 
looking  down,  saw  the  minister  stalking  back  and 
forth  hi  the  yard,  his  hands  clasped  behind,  his 
head  thrown  back  raptly.  He  could  not  see  her 
in  her  dark  room,  but  she  pulled  the  shade  down 
softly  and  fled  to  her  hard  little  bed.  Was  that 
man  going  to  obsess  her  vision  everywhere,  and 
must  she  try  to  like  him  just  because  he  was  a 
minister? 

So  at  last  she  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  next  day  was  filled  with  unpacking  and  with 
writing  letters  home.  By  dint  of  being  very 
busy  Margaret  managed  to  forget  the  minister,  who 
seemed  to  obtrude  himself  at  every  possible  turn 
of  the  day,  and  would  have  monopolized  her  if  she 
had  given  him  half  a  chance. 

The  trunks,  two  delightful  steamer  ones,  and  a 
big  packing-box  with  her  books,  arrived  the  next 
morning  and  caused  great  excitement  in  the  house- 
hold. Not  since  they  moved  into  the  new  house 
had  they  seen  so  many  things  arrive.  Bud  helped 
carry  them  up-stairs,  while  Cap  ran  wildly  back  and 
forth,  giving  sharp  barks,  and  the  minister  stood  by 
the  front  door  and  gave  ineffectual  and  unpractical 
advice  to  the  man  who  had  brought  them.  Mar- 
garet heard  the  man  and  Bud  exchanging  their 
opinion  of  West  in  low  growls  hi  the  hall  as  they 
entered  her  door,  and  she  couldn't  help  feeling  that 
she  agreed  with  them,  though  she  might  not  have 
expressed  her  opinion  in  the  same  terms. 

The  minister  tapped  at  her  door  a  little  later  and 
offered  his  services  in  opening  her  box  and  unstrap- 
ping her  trunks;  but  she  told  him  Bud  had  already 
performed  that  service  for  her,  and  thanked  him 
with  a  finality  that  forbade  him  to  linger.  She  half 

55 


A    VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

hoped  he  heard  the  vicious  little  click  with  which 
she  locked  the  door  after  him,  and  then  wondered 
if  she  were  wicked  to  feel  that  way.  But  all  such 
compunctions  were  presently  forgotten  hi  the  work 
of  making  over  her  room. 

The  trunks,  after  they  were  unpacked  and  re- 
packed with  the  things  she  would  not  need  at  once, 
were  disposed  in  front  of  the  two  windows  with 
which  the  ugly  little  room  was  blessed.  She  cov- 
ered them  with  two  Bagdad  rugs,  relics  of  her  col- 
lege days,  and  piled  several  college  pillows  from  the 
packing-box  on  each,  which  made  the  room  in- 
stantly assume  a  homelike  air.  Then  out  of  the 
box  came  other  things.  Framed  pictures  of  home 
scenes,  college  friends  and  places,  pennants,  and 
flags  from  football,  baseball,  and  basket-ball  games 
she  had  attended;  photographs;  a  few  prints  of  rare 
paintings  simply  f ramed;  a  roll  of  rose-bordered  white 
scrim  like  her  curtains  at  home,  wherewith  she 
transformed  the  blue-shaded  windows  and  the  stiff 
little  wooden  rocker,  and  even  made  a  valance  and 
bed-cover  over  pink  cambric  for  her  bed.  The 
bureau  and  wash-stand  were  given  pink  and  white 
covers,  and  the  ugly  walls  literally  disappeared  be- 
neath pictures,  pennants,  banners,  and  symbols. 

When  Bud  came  up  to  call  her  to  dinner  she  flung 
the  door  open,  and  he  paused  in  wide-eyed  amaze- 
ment over  the  transformation.  His  eyes  kindled 
at  a  pair  of  golf-sticks,  a  hockey-stick,  a  tennis- 
racket,  and  a  big  basket-ball  in  the  corner;  and  his 
whole  look  of  surprise  was  so  ridiculous  that  she  had 
to  laugh.  He  looked  as  if  a  miracle  had  been  per- 
formed on  the  room,  and  actually  stepped  back  into 

56 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

the  hall  to  get  his  breath  and  be  sure  he  was  still  in 
his  father's  house. 

"I  want  you  to  come  in  and  see  all  my  pictures 
and  get  acquainted  with  my  friends  when  you  have 
time,"  she  said.  "I  wonder  if  you  could  make  some 
more  shelves  for  my  books  and  help  me  unpack  and 
set  them  up?" 

"Sure!"  gasped  Bud,  heartily,  albeit  with  awe. 
She  hadn't  asked  the  minister;  she  had  asked  him — 
Bud!  Just  a  boy!  He  looked  around  the  room 
with  anticipation.  What  wonder  and  delight  he 
would  have  looking  at  all  those  things! 

Then  Cap  stepped  into  the  middle  of  the  room  as 
if  he  belonged,  mouth  open,  tongue  lolling,  smiling 
and  panting  a  hearty  approval,  as  he  looked  about 
at  the  strangeness  for  all  the  world  as  a  human 
being  might  have  done.  It  was  plain  he  was  pleased 
with  the  change. 

There  was  a  proprietary  ah-  about  Bud  during 
dinner  that  was  pleasant  to  Margaret  and  most 
annoying  to  West.  It  was  plain  that  West  looked 
on  the  boy  as  an  upstart  whom  Miss  Earle  was 
using  for  the  present  to  block  his  approach,  and  he 
was  growing  most  impatient  over  the  delay.  He 
suggested  that  perhaps  she  would  like  his  escort 
to  see  something  of  her  surroundings  that  afternoon; 
but  she  smilingly  told  him  that  she  would  be  very 
busy  all  the  afternoon  getting  settled,  and  when 
he  offered  again  to  help  her  she  cast  a  dazzling 
smile  on  Bud  and  said  she  didn't  think  she  would 
need  any  more  help,  that  Bud  was  going  to  do  a 
few  things  for  her,  and  that  was  all  that  was  neces- 
sary. 

57 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

Bud  straightened  up  and  became  two  inches  taller. 
He  passed  the  bread,  suggested  two  pieces  of  pie, 
and  filled  her  glass  of  water  as  if  she  were  his  partner. 
Mr.  Tanner  beamed  to  see  his  son  in  high  favor, 
but  Mrs.  Tanner  looked  a  little  troubled  for  the 
minister.  She  thought  things  weren't  just  pro- 
gressing as  fast  as  they  ought  to  between  him  and 
the  teacher. 

Bud,  with  Margaret's  instructions,  managed  to 
make  a  very  creditable  bookcase  out  of  the  packing- 
box  sawed  in  half,  the  pieces  set  side  by  side.  She 
covered  them  deftly  with  green  burlap  left  over  from 
college  days,  like  her  other  supplies,  and  then  the 
two  arranged  the  books.  Bud  was  delighted  ovef 
the  prospect  of  reading  some  of  the  books,  for  they 
were  not  all  school-books,  by  any  means,  and  she 
had  brought  plenty  of  them  to  keep  her  from  being 
lonesome  on  days  when  she  longed  to  fly  back  to 
her  home. 

At  last  the  work  was  done,  and  they  stood  back 
to  survey  it.  The  books  filled  up  every  speck  of 
space  and  overflowed  to  the  three  little  hanging 
shelves  over  them;  but  they  were  all  squeezed  in 
at  last  except  a  pile  of  school-books  that  were  saved 
out  to  take  to  the  school-house.  Margaret  set  a  tiny 
vase  on  the  top  of  one  part  of  the  packing-case  and 
a  small  brass  bowl  on  the  top  of  the  other,  and  Bud, 
after  a  knowing  glance,  scurried  away  for  a  few  min- 
utes and  brought  back  a  handful  of  gorgeous  cactus 
blossoms  to  give  the  final  touch. 

"Gee!"  he  said,  admiringly,  looking  around  the 
room.  "Gee!  You  wouldn't  know  it  fer  the  same 
place!" 

58 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

That  evening  after  supper  Margaret  sat  down  to 
write  a  long  letter  home.  She  had  written  a  brief 
letter,  of  course,  the  night  before,  but  .had  been  too 
weary  oo  go  into  detail.  The  letter  read: 

JLJEAR  MOTHER  AND  FATHER, — I'm  unpacked  and  settled  at 
last  in  my  room,  and  now  I  can't  stand  it  another  minute  till  I 
talk  to  you. 

Last  night,  of  course,  I  was  pretty  homesick,  things  all  looked 
so  strange  and  new  and  different.  I  had  known  they  would, 
but  then  I  didn't  realize  at  all  how  different  they  would  be. 
But  I'm  not  getting  homesick  already;  don't  think  it.  Fm  not 
a  bit  sorry  I  came,  or  at  least  I  sha'n't  be  when  I  get  started  in 
school.  One  of  the  scholars  is  Mrs.  Tanner's  son,  and  I  like 
him.  He's  crude,  of  course,  but  he  has  a  brain,  and  he's  been 
helping  me  this  afternoon.  We  made  a  bookcase  for  my  books, 
and  it  looks  fine.  I  wish  you  could  see  it.  I  covered  it  with  the 
green  burlap,  and  the  books  look  real  happy  in  smiling  rows 
over  on  the  other  side  of  the  room.  Bud  Tanner  got  me  some 
wonderful  cactus  blossoms  for  my  brass  bowl.  I  wish  I  could 
send  you  some.  They  are  gorgeous! 

But  you  will  want  me  to  tell  about  my  arrival.  Well,  to 
begin  with,  I  was  late  getting  here  [Margaret  had  decided  to 
leave  out  the  incident  of  the  desert  altogether,  for  she  knew  by 
experience  that  her  mother  would  suffer  terrors  all  during  her 
absence  if  she  once  heard  of  that  wild  adventurel,  which 
accounts  for  the  lateness  of  the  telegram  I  sent  you.  I  hope 
its  delay  didn't  make  you  worry  any. 

A  very  nice  young  man  named  Mr.  Gardley  piloted  me  to 
Mrs.  Tanner's  house  and  looked  after  my  trunks  for  me.  He  is 
from  the  East.  It  was  fortunate  for  me  that  he  happened  along, 
for  he  was  most  kind  and  gentlemanly  and  helpful.  Tell  Jan* 
not  to  worry  lest  I'll  fall  in  love  with  him;  he  doesn't  live  here. 
He  belongs  to  a  ranch  or  camp  or  something  twenty-five  miles 
away.  She  was  so  afraid  I'd  fall  in  love  with  an  Arizona  man 
and  not  come  back  home. 

Mrs.  Tanner  is  very  kind  and  motherly  according  to  her 
lights.  She  has  given  me  the  best  room  hi  the  house,  and  she 
talks  a  blue  streak.  She  has  thin,  brown  hair  turning  gray,  and 

59 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

she  wears  it  in  a  funny  little  knob  on  the  tip-top  of  her  round 
head  to  correspond  with  the  funny  little  tuft  of  hair  on  her 
husband's  protruding  chin.  Her  head  is  set  on  her  neck  like 
a  clothes-pin,  only  she  is  squattier  than  a  clothes-pin.  She 
always  wears  her  sleeves  rolled  up  (at  least  so  far  she  has)  and 
she  always  bustles  around  noisily  and  apologizes  for  everything 
in  the  joHiest  sort  of  way.  I  would  like  her,  I  guess,  if  it  wasn't 
for  the  other  boarder;  but  she  has  quite  made  up  her  mind 
that  I  shall  like  him,  and  I  don't,  of  course,  so  she  is  a  bit  dis- 
appointed in  me  so  far. 

Mr.  Tanner  is  very  kind  and  funny,  and  looks  something  like 
a  jack-knife  with  the  blades  half -open.  He  never  disagrees  with 
Mrs.  Tanner,  and  I  really  believe  he's  in  love  with  her  yet, 
though  they  must  have  been  married  a  good  while.  He  calls 
her  "Ma,"  and  seems  restless  unless  she's  in  the  room.  When 
she  goes  out  to  the  kitchen  to  get  some  more  soup  or  hash  or 
bring  in  the  pie,  he  shouts  remarks  at  her  all  the  time  she's  gone, 
and  she  answers,  utterly  regardless  of  the  conversation  the  rest 
of  the  family  are  carrying  on.  It's  like  a  phonograph  wound  up 
for  the  day. 

Bud  Tanner  is  about  fourteen,  and  I  like  him.  He's  well 
developed,  strong,  and  almost  handsome;  at  least  he  would  be 
if  he  were  fixed  up  a  little.  He  has  fine,  dark  eyes  and  a  great 
shock  of  dark  hair.  He  and  I  are  friends  already.  And  so  is 
the  dog.  The  dog  is  a  peach!  Excuse  me,  mother,  but  I  just 
must  use  a  little  of  the  dear  old  college  slang  somewhere,  and 
your  letters  are  the  only  safety-valve,  for  I'm  a  schoolmarm 
now  and  must  talk  "good  and  proper"  all  the  time,  you  know. 

The  dog's  name  is  Captain,  and  he  looks  the  part.  He  has 
constituted  himself  my  bodyguard,  and  it's  going  to  be  very 
nice  having  him.  He's  perfectly  devoted  already.  He's  a  great, 
big,  fluffy  fellow  with  keen,  intelligent  eyes,  sensitive  ears,  and 
a  tail  like  a  spreading  plume.  You'd  love  him,  I  know.  He  has 
a  smile  like  the  morning  sunshine. 

And  now  I  come  to  the  only  other  member  of  the  family,  the 
boarder,  and  I  hesitate  to  approach  the  topic,  because  I  have 
taken  one  of  my  violent  and  naughty  dislikes  to  him,  and — awful 
thought — mother!  father!  he's  a  minister!  Yes,  he's  a  Pres- 
byterian minister!  I  know  it  will  make  you  feel  dreadfully, 

60 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

and  I  thought  some  of  not  telling  you,  but  my  conscience  hurt 
me  so  I  had  to.  I  just  can't  bear  him,  so  there!  Of  course,  I 
may  get  over  it,  but  I  don't  see  how  ever,  for  I  can't  think  of 
anything  that's  more  like  him  than  soft  soap!  Oh  yes,  there  is 
one  other  word.  Grandmother  used  to  use  it  about  men  she 
hadn't  any  use  for,  and  that  was  "squash."  Mother,  I  can't 
help  it,  but  he  does  seem  something  like  a  squash.  One  of  that 
crook-necked,  yellow  kind  with  warts  all  over  it,  and  a  great, 
big,  splurgy  vine  behind  it  to  account  for  its  being  there  at  all. 
Insipid  and  thready  when  it's  cooked,  you  know,  and  has  to 
have  a  lot  of  salt  and  pepper  and  butter  to  make  it  go  down 
at  all.  Now  I've  told  you  the  worst,  and  I'll  try  to  describe 
him  and  see  what  you  think  I'd  better  do  about  it.  Oh,  he  isn't 
the  regular  minister  here,  or  missionary — I  guess  they  call  him. 
He's  located  quite  a  distance  off,  and  only  comes  once  a  month 
to  preach  here,  and,  anyhow,  he's  gone  East  now  to  take  his  wife 
to  a  hospital  for  an  operation,  and  won't  be  back  for  a  couple 
of  months,  perhaps,  and  this  man  isn't  even  taking  his  place. 
He's  just  here  for  his  health  or  for  fun  or  something,  I  guess. 
He  says  he  had  a  large  suburban  church  near  New  York,  and 
had  a  nervous  breakdown;  but  I've  been  wondering  if  he  didn't 
make  a  mistake,  and  it  wasn't  the  church  had  the  nervous  break- 
down instead.  He  isn't  very  big  nor  very  little;  he's  just  in- 
significant. His  hair  is  like  wet  straw,  and  his  eyes  like  a 
fish's.  His  hand  feels  like  a  dead  toad  when  you  have  to  shake 
hands,  which  I'm  thankful  doesn't  have  to  be  done  but  once. 
He  looks  at  you  with  a  flat,  sickening  grin.  He  has  an  acquired 
double  chin,  acquired  to  make  him  look  pompous,  and  he 
dresses  stylishly  and  speaks  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  country 
with  contempt.  He  wants  to  be  very  affable,  and  offers  to  take 
me  to  all  sorts  of  places,  but  so  far  I've  avoided  him.  I  can't 
think  how  they  ever  came  to  let  him  be  a  minister — I  really 
can't!  And  yet,  I  suppose  it's  all  my  horrid  old  prejudice,  and 
father  will  be  grieved  and  you  will  think  I  am  perverse.  But, 
really,  I'm  sure  he's  not  one  bit  like  father  was  when  he  was 
young.  I  never  saw  a  minister  like  him.  Perhaps  I'll  get  over 
it.  I  do  sometimes,  you  know,  so  don't  begin  to  worry  yet. 
I'll  try  real  hard.  I  suppose  he'll  preach  Sunday,  and  then, 
5  61 


A    VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

perhaps,  his  sermon  will  be  grand  and  I'll  forget  how  soft-soapy 
he  looks  and  think  only  of  his  great  thoughts. 

But  I  know  it  will  be  a  sort  of  comfort  to  you  to  know  that 
there  is  a  Presbyterian  minister  hi  the  house  with  me,  and  I'll 
really  try  to  like  him  if  I  can. 

There's  nothing  to  complain  of  in  the  board.  It  isn't  luxuri- 
ous, of  course,  but  I  didn't  expect  that.  Everything  is  very 
plain,  but  Mrs.  Tanner  manages  to  make  it  taste  good.  She 
makes  fine  corn-bread,  almost  as  good  as  yours — not  quite. 

My  room  is  all  lovely,  now  that  I  have  covered  its  bareness 
with  my  own  things,  but  it  has  one  great  thing  that  can't  com- 
pare with  anything  at  home,  and  that  is  its  view.  It  is  won- 
derful! I  wish  I  could  make  you  see  it.  There  is  a  mountain 
at  the  end  of  it  that  has  as  many  different  garments  as  a  queen. 
To-night,  when  sunset  came,  it  grew  filmy  as  if  a  gauze  of  many 
colors  had  dropped  upon  it  and  melted  into  it,  and  glowed  and 
melted  until  it  turned  to  slate  blue  under  the  wide,  starred 
blue  of  the  wonderful  night  sky,  and  all  the  dark  about  was 
velvet.  Last  night  my  mountain  was  all  pink  and  silver,  and 
I  have  seen  it  purple  and  rose.  But  you  can't  think  the  wideness 
of  the  sky,  and  I  couldn't  paint  it  for  you  with  words.  You 
must  see  it  to  understand.  A  great,  wide,  dark  sapphire  floor 
just  simply  ravished  with  stars  like  big  jewels! 

But  I  must  stop  and  go  to  bed,  for  I  find  the  air  of  this  country 
makes  me  very  sleepy,  and  my  wicked  little  kerosene-lamp  is 
smoking.  I  guess  you  would  better  send  me  my  student-lamp, 
after  all,  for  I'm  surely  going  to  need  it. 

Now  I  must  turn  out  the  light  and  say  good  night  to  my 
mountain,  and  then  I  will  go  to  sleep  thinking  of  you.    Don't 
worry  about  the  minister.    I'm  very  polite  to  him,  but  I  shall 
never — no,  never — fall  in  love  with  him — tell  Jane. 
Your  loving  little  girl, 

MAEGARET. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MARGARET  had  arranged  with  Bud  to  take  her 
to  the  school-house  the  next  morning,  and  he 
had  promised  to  have  a  horse  hitched  up  and  ready 
at  ten  o'clock,  as  it  seemed  the  school  was  a  mag- 
nificent distance  from  her  boarding-place.  In  fact, 
everything  seemed  to  be  located  with  a  view  to 
being  as  far  from  everywhere  else  as  possible.  Even 
the  town  was  scattering  and  widespread  and  sparse. 
When  she  came  down  to  breakfast  she  was  dis- 
appointed to  find  that  Bud  was  not  there,  and  she 
was  obliged  to  suffer  a  breakfast  tete-a-tete  with 
West.  By  dint,  however,  of  asking  him  questions 
instead  of  allowing  him  to  take  the  initiative,  she 
hurried  through  her  breakfast  quite  successfully, 
acquiring  a  superficial  knowledge  of  her  fellow- 
boarder  quite  distant  and  satisfactory.  She  knew 
where  he  spent  his  college  days  and  at  what  theo- 
logical seminary  he  had  prepared  for  the  ministry. 
He  had  served  three  years  in  a  prosperous  church  of 
a  fat  little  suburb  of  New  York,  and  was  taking  a 
winter  off  from  his  severe,  strenuous  pastoral  labors 
to  recuperate  his  strength,  get  a  new  stock  of  ser- 
mons ready,  and  possibly  to  write  a  book  of  some 
of  his  experiences.  He  flattened  his  weak,  pink  chim 

63 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

learnedly  as  he  said  this,  and  tried  to  look  at  her 
impressively.  He  said  that  he  should  probably  take 
a  large  city  church  as  his  next  pastorate  when  his 
health  was  fully  recuperated.  He  had  come  out  to 
study  the  West  and  enjoy  its  freedom,  as  he  under- 
stood it  was  a  good  place  to  rest  and  do  as  you 
please  unhampered  by  what  people  thought.  He 
wanted  to  get  as  far  away  from  churches  and  things 
clerical  as  possible.  He  felt  it  was  due  himself  and 
his  work  that  he  should.  He  spoke  of  the  people  he 
had  met  in  Arizona  as  a  kind  of  tamed  savages, 
and  Mrs.  Tanner,  sitting  behind  her  coffee-pot  for  a 
moment  between  bustles,  heard  his  comments  meekly 
and  looked  at  him  with  awe.  What  a  great  man  he 
must  be,  and  how  fortunate  for  the  new  teacher  that 
he  should  be  there  when  she  came! 

Margaret  drew  a  breath  of  relief  as  she  hurried 
away  from  the  breakfast-table  to  her  room.  She 
was  really  anticipating  the  ride  to  the  school  with 
Bud.  She  liked  boys,  and  Bud  had  taken  her  fancy. 
But  when  she  came  down-stairs  with  her  hat  and 
sweater  on  she  found  West  standing  out  in  front, 
holding  the  horse. 

"Bud  had  to  go  in  another  direction,  Miss  Earle," 
he  said,  touching  his  hat  gracefully,  "and  he  has 
delegated  to  me  the  pleasant  task  of  driving  you  to 
the  school." 

Dismay  filled  Margaret's  soul,  and  rage  with  young 
Bud.  He  had  deserted  her  and  left  her  in  the  hands 
of  the  enemy!  And  she  had  thought  he  understood! 
Well,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  with  this 
man,  much  as  she  disliked  it.  Her  father's  daughter 
could  not  be  rude  to  a  minister. 

64 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

She  climbed  into  the  buckboard  quickly  to  get  the 
ceremony  over,  for  her  escort  was  inclined  to  be  too 
officious  about  helping  her  in,  and  somehow  she 
couldn't  bear  to  have  him  touch  her.  Why  was  it 
that  she  felt  so  about  him?  Of  course  he  must  be 
a  good  man. 

West  made  a  serious  mistake  at  the  very  outset 
of  that  ride.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  all  girls 
like  flattery,  and  he  proceeded  to  try  it  on  Margaret. 
But  Margaret  did  not  enjoy  being  told  how  delighted 
he  was  to  find  that  instead  of  the  loud,  bold  "old 
maid"  he  had  expected,  she  had  turned  out  to  be 
"so  beautiful  and  young  and  altogether  congenial"; 
and,  coolly  ignoring  his  compliments,  she  began  a  fire 
of  questions  again. 

She  asked  about  the  country,  because  that  was  the 
most  obvious  topic  of  conversation.  What  plants 
were  those  that  grew  by  the  wayside?  She  found 
he  knew  greasewood  from  sage-brush,  and  that  was 
about  all.  To  some  of  her  questions  he  hazarded 
answers  that  were  absurd  in  the  light  of  the  explana- 
tions given  her  by  Gardley  two  days  before.  How- 
ever, she  reflected  that  he  had  been  in  the  country 
but  a  short  time,  and  that  he  was  by  nature  a  man 
not  interested  in  such  topics.  She  tried  religious 
matters,  thinking  that  here  at  least  they  must  have 
common  interests.  She  asked  him  what  he  thought 
of  Christianity  in  the  West  as  compared  with  the 
East.  Did  he  find  these  Western  people  more  alive 
and  awake  to  the  things  of  the  Kingdom? 

West  gave  a  startled  look  at  the  clear  profile  of 
the  young  woman  beside  him,  thought  he  perceived 
that  she  was  testing  him  on  his  clerical  side,  flat- 

65 


A    VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

tened  his  chin  in  his  most  learned,  self-conscious 
manner,  cleared  his  throat,  and  put  on  wisdom. 

"Well,  now,  Miss  Earle,"  he  began,  condescend- 
ingly, "I  really  don't  know  that  I  have  thought 
much  about  the  matter.  Ah — you  know  I  have  been 
resting  absolutely,  and  I  really  haven't  had  oppor- 
tunity to  study  the  situation  out  here  in  detail;  but, 
on  the  whole,  I  should  say  that  everything  was 
decidedly  primitive;  yes — ah — I  might  say — ah — 
well,  crude.  Yes,  crude  in  the  extreme!  Why, 
take  it  in  this  mission  district.  The  missionary  who 
is  in  charge  seems  to  be  teaching  the  most  absurd 
of  the  old  dogmas  such  as  our  forefathers  used  to 
teach.  I  haven't  met  him,  of  course.  He  is  in  the 
East  with  his  wife  for  a  time.  I  am  told  she  had 
to  go  under  some  kind  of  an  operation.  I  have 
never  met  him,  and  really  don't  care  to  do  so;  but 
to  judge  from  all  I  hear,  he  is  a  most  unfit  man  for 
a  position  of  the  kind.  For  example,  he  is  teaching 
such  exploded  doctrines  as  the  old  view  of  the 
atonement,  the  infallibility  of  the  Scriptures,  the 
deity  of  Christ,  belief  in  miracles,  and  the  like. 
Of  course,  in  one  sense  it  really  matters  very  little 
what  the  poor  Indians  believe,  or  what  such  people 
as  the  Tanners  are  taught.  They  have  but  little 
mind,  and  would  scarcely  know  the  difference;  but 
you  can  readily  see  that  with  such  a  primitive,  un- 
enlightened man  at  the  head  of  religious  affairs, 
there  could  scarcely  be  much  broadening  and  real 
religious  growth.  Ignorance,  of  course,  holds  sway 
out  here.  I  fancy  you  will  find  that  to  be  the  case 
soon  enough.  What  in  the  world  ever  led  you  to 
•come  to  a  field  like  this  to  labor?  Surely  there  must 

66 


A   VOICE   IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

have  been  many  more  congenial  places  open  to  such 
as  you."  He  leaned  forward  and  cast  a  sentimental 
glance  at  her,  his  eyes  looking  more  "  fishy  "  than  ever. 

"I  came  out  here  because  I  wanted  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  this  great  country,  and  because  I 
thought  there  was  an  opportunity  to  do  good,"  said 
Margaret,  coldly.  She  did  not  care  to  discuss  her 
own  affairs  with  this  man.  "But,  Mr.  West,  I 
don't  know  that  I  altogether  understand  you.  Didn't 
you  tell  me  that  you  were  a  Presbyterian  minister?" 

"I  certainly  did,"  he  answered,  complacently, 
as  though  he  were  honoring  the  whole  great  body  of 
Presbyterians  by  making  the  statement. 

"Well,  then,  what  in  the  world  did  you  mean? 
All  Presbyterians,  of  course,  believe  in  the  infallibility 
of  the  Scriptures  and  the  deity  of  Jesus — and  the 
atonement!" 

"Not  necessarily,"  answered  the  young  man, 
loftily.  "You  will  find,  my  dear  young  lady,  that 
there  is  a  wide,  growing  feeling  in  our  church  in  favor 
of  a  broader  view.  The  younger  men,  and  the  great 
student  body  of  our  church,  have  thrown  to  the 
winds  all  their  former  beliefs  and  are  ready  to  ac- 
cept new  light  with  open  minds.  The  findings  of 
science  have  opened  up  a  vast  store  of  knowledge, 
and  all  thinking  men  must  acknowledge  that  the 
old  dogmas  are  rapidly  vanishing  away.  Your 
father  doubtless  still  holds  to  the  old  faith,  perhaps, 
and  we  must  be  lenient  with  the  older  men  who 
have  done  the  best  they  could  with  the  light  they 
had;  but  all  younger,  broad-minded  men  are  coming 
to  the  new  way  of  looking  at  things.  We  have  had 
enough  of  the  days  of  preaching  hell-fire  and  dam- 

67 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

nation.  We  need  a  religion  of  love  to  man,  and  good 
works.  You  should  read  some  of  the  books  that 
have  been  written  on  this  subject  if  you  care  to 
understand.  I  really  think  it  would  be  worth  your 
while.  You  look  to  me  like  a  young  woman  with  a 
mind.  I  have  a  few  of  the  latest  with  me.  I  shall 
be  glad  to  read  and  discuss  them  with  you  if  you  are 
interested." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  West/'  said  Margaret,  coolly, 
though  her  eyes  burned  with  battle.  "I  think  I  have 
probably  read  most  of  those  books  and  discussed 
them  with  my  father.  He  may  be  old,  but  he  is 
not  without  'light/  as  y°u  call  it,  and  he  always 
believed  in  knowing  all  that  the  other  side  was 
saying.  He  brought  me  up  to  look  into  these  things 
for  myself.  And,  anyhow,  I  should  not  care  to  read 
and  discuss  any  of  these  subjects  with  a  man  who 
denies  the  deity  of  my  Saviour  and  does  not  believe 
in  the  infallibility  of  the  Bible.  It  seems  to  me  you 
have  nothing  left — ' 

"Ah!  Well — now — my  dear  young  lady — you 
mustn't  misjudge  me!  I  should  be  sorry  indeed  to 
shake  your  faith,  for  an  innocent  faith  is,  of  course, 
a  most  beautiful  thing,  even  though  it  may  be  un- 
founded." 

"Indeed,  Mr.  West,  that  would  not  be  possible. 
You  could  not  shake  my  faith  in  my  Christ,  because 
/  know  Him.  If  I  had  not  ever  felt  His  presence, 
nor  been  guided  by  His  leading,  such  words  might 
possibly  trouble  me,  but  having  seen  'Him  that  is 
invisible/  /  know."  Margaret's  voice  was  steady 
and  gentle.  It  was  impossible  for  even  that  man 
not  to  be  impressed  by  her  words. 

68 


A    VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

"Well,  let  us  not  quarrel  about  it,"  he  said,  in- 
dulgently, as  to  a  little  child.  "I'm  sure  you  have 
a  very  charming  way  of  stating  it,  and  I'm  not  sure 
that  it  is  not  a  relief  to  find  a  woman  of  the  old- 
fashioned  type  now  and  then.  It  really  is  man's 
place  to  look  into  these  deeper  questions,  anyway. 
It  is  woman's  sphere  to  live  and  love  and  make  a 
happy  home — " 

His  voice  took  on  a  sentimental  purr,  and  Mar- 
garet was  fairly  boiling  with  rage  at  him;  but  she 
would  not  let  her  temper  give  way,  especially  when 
she  was  talking  on  the  sacred  theme  of  the  Christ. 
She  felt  as  if  she  must  scream  or  jump  out  over  the 
wheel  and  run  away  from  this  obnoxious  man,  but 
she  knew  she  would  do  neither.  She  knew  she  would 
sit  calmly  through  the  expedition  and  somehow 
control  that  conversation.  There  was  one  relief, 
anyway.  Her  father  would  no  longer  expect  respect 
and  honor  and  liking  toward  a  minister  who  denied 
the  very  fife  and  foundation  of  his  faith. 

"It  can't  be  possible  that  the  school-house  is  so 
far  from  the  town,"  she  said,  suddenly  looking 
around  at  the  widening  desert  in  front  of  them. 
"  Haven't  you  made  some  mistake?" 

"Why,  I  thought  we  should  have  the  pleasure  of 
a  little  drive  first,"  said  West,  with  a  cunning  smile. 
"I  was  sure  you  would  enjoy  seeing  the  country 
before  you  get  down  to  work,  and  I  was  not  averse ' 
myself  to  a  drive  in  such  delightful  company." 

"I  would  like  to  go  back  to  the  school-house  at 
once,  please,"  said  Margaret,  decidedly,  arid  there 
was  that  in  her  voice  that  caused  the  man  to  turn 
the  horse  around  and  head  it  toward  the  village. 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"Why,  yes,  of  course,  if  you  prefer  to  see  the 
school-house  first,  we  can  go  back  and  look  it  over, 
and  then,  perhaps,  you  will  like  to  ride  a  little 
farther/'  he  said.  "We  have  plenty  of  time.  In 
fact,  Mrs.  Tanner  told  me  she  would  not  expect  us 
home  to  dinner,  and  she  put  a  very  promising-looking 
basket  of  lunch  under  the  seat  for  us  in  case  we  got 
hungry  before  we  came  back." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Margaret,  quite  freezingly  now. 
"I  really  do  not  care  to  drive  this  morning.  I  would 
like  to  see  the  school-house,  and  then  I  must  return 
to  the  house  at  once.  I  have  a  great  many  things 
to  do  this  morning." 

Her  manner  at  last  penetrated  even  the  thick 
skin  of  the  self-centered  man,  and  he  realized  that 
he  had  gone  a  step  too  far  in  his  attentions.  He  set 
himself  to  undo  the  mischief,  hoping  perhaps  to 
melt  her  yet  to  take  the  all-day  drive  with  him. 
But  she  sat  silent  during  the  return  to  the  village, 
answering  his  volubility  only  by  yes  or  no  when 
absolutely  necessary.  She  let  him  babble  away 
about  college  life  and  tell  incidents  of  his  late  pas- 
torate, at  some  of  which  he  laughed  immoderately;  but 
he  could  not  even  bring  a  smile  to  her  dignified  lips. 

He  hoped  she  would  change  her  mind  when  they 
got  to  the  school  building,  and  he  even  stooped  to 
praise  it  in  a  kind  of  contemptuous  way  as  they  drew 
up  in  front  of  the  large  adobe  building. 

"I  suppose  you  will  want  to  go  through  the 
building,"  he  said,  affably,  producing  the  key  from 
his  pocket  and  putting  on  a  pleasant  anticipatory 
smile,  but  Margaret  shook  her  head.  She  simply 
would  not  go  into  the  building  with  that  man. 

70 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  she  said  again,  coldly.  "I 
think  I  will  go  home  now,  please."  And  he  was 
forced  to  turn  the  horse  toward  the  Tanner  house, 
crestfallen,  and  wonder  why  this  beautiful  girl  was 
so  extremely  hard  to  win.  He  flattered  himself  that 
he  had  always  been  able  to  interest  any  girl  he 
chose.  It  was  really  quite  a  bewildering  type.  But 
he  would  win  her  yet. 

He  set  her  down  silently  at  the  Tanner  door  and 
drove  off,  lunch-basket  and  all,  into  the  wilderness, 
vexed  that  she  was  so  stubbornly  unfriendly,  and 
pondering  how  he  anight  break  down  the  dignity 
wherewith,  she  had  surrounded  herself.  There  would 
be  a  way  and  he  would  find  it.  There  *was  a  stub- 
bornness about  that  weak  chin  of  his,  when  one  ob- 
served it,  and  an  ugliness  in  his  pale-blue  eye;  or 
perhaps  you  would  call  it  a  hardness. 


CHAPTER  IX 

OHE  watched  him  furtively  from  her  bedroom 
<-5  window,  whither  she  had  fled  from  Mrs.  Tan- 
ner's exclamations.  He  wore  his  stylish  derby  tilted 
down  over  his  left  eye  and  slightly  to  one  side  in  a 
most  unministerial  manner,  showing  too  much  of  his 
straw-colored  back  hair,  which  rose  in  a  cowlick  at 
the  point  of  contact  with  the  hat,  and  he  looked  a 
small,  mean  creature  as  he  drove  off  into  the  vast 
beauty  of  the  plain.  Margaret,  in  her  indignation, 
could  not  help  comparing  him  with  the  young  man 
who  had  ridden  away  from  the  house  two  days  be- 
fore. 

"And  he  to  set  up  to  be  a  minister  of  Christ's 
gospel  and  talk  like  that  about  the  Bible  and  Christ! 
Oh,  what  was  the  church  of  Christ  coming  to,  to 
have  ministers  like  that?  How  ever  did  he  get  into 
the  ministry,  anyway?  Of  course,  she  knew  there 
were  young  men  with  honest  doubts  who  sometimes 
slid  through  nowadays,  but  a  mean  little  silly  man 
like  that?  How  ever  did  he  get  in?  What  a  lot  of 
ridiculous  things  he  had  said!  He  was  one  of  those 
described  in  the  Bible  who  "  darken  counsel  with 
words."  He  was  not  worth  noticing.  And  yet, 
what  a  lot  of  harm  he  could  do  in  an  unlearned  com- 
munity. Just  see  how  Mrs.  Tanner  hung  upon  his 

72 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

words,  as  though  they  were  law  and  gospel!  How 
could  she? 

Margaret  found  herself  trembling  yet  over  the 
words  he  had  spoken  about  Christ,  the  atonement, 
and  the  faith.  They  meant  so  much  to  her  and  to 
her  mother  and  father.  They  were  not  mere  empty 
words  of  tradition  that  she  believed  because  she  had 
been  taught.  She  had  lived  her  faith  and  proved  it; 
and  she  could  not  help  feeling  it  like  a  personal  in- 
sult to  have  him  speak  so  of  her  Saviour.  She 
turned  away  and  took  her  Bible  to  try  and  get  a  bit 
of  calmness. 

She  fluttered  the  leaves  for  something — she  could 
not  just  tell  what — and  her  eye  caught  some  of  the 
verses  that  her  father  had  marked  for  her  before 
she  left  home  for  college,  hi  the  days  when  he  was 
troubled  for  her  going  forth  into  the  world  of  un- 
belief. 

As  ye  have  therefore  received  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord,  so 
walk  ye  in  him:  Rooted  and  built  up  in  him,  and  established 
in  the  faith,  as  ye  have  been  taught,  abounding  therein  with 
thanksgiving.  Beware  lest  any  man  spoil  you  through  phi- 
losophy and  vain  deceit,  after  the  tradition  of  men,  after  the 
rudiments  of  the  world,  and  not  after  Christ.  For  hi  him 
dwelleth  all  the  fullness  of  the  Godhead  bodily 

How  the  verses  crowded  upon  one  another,  stand- 
ing out  clearly  from  the  pages  as  she  turned  them, 
marked  with  her  father's  own  hand  in  clear  ink 
underlinings.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  God  had 
looked  ahead  to  these  times  and  set  these  words 
down  just  for  the  encouragement  of  his  troubled 
servants  who  couldn't  understand  why  faith  was 

growing  dim.    God  knew  about  it,  had  known  it 

73 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

would  be,  all  this  doubt,  and  had  put  words  here 
just  for  troubled  hearts  to  be  comforted  thereby. 

For  I  know  whom  I  have  believed  [How  her  heart  echoed  to 
that  statement!],  and  am  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that 
which  I  have  committed  unto  him  against  that  day. 

And  on  a  little  further: 

Nevertheless  the  foundation  of  God  standeth  sure,  having 
this  seal,  The  Lord  knoweth  them  that  are  his. 

There  was  a  triumphant  look  to  the  words  as  she 
read  them. 

Then  over  hi  Ephesians  her  eye  caught  a  verse 
that  just  seemed  to  fit  that  poor  blind  minister: 

Having  the  understanding  darkened,  being  alienated  from 
the  life  of  God  through  the  ignorance  that  is  in  them,  because 
of  the  blindness  of  their  heart. 

And  yet  he  was  set  to  guide  the  feet  of  the 
blind  into  the  way  of  life!  And  he  had  looked 
on  her  as  one  of  the  ignorant.  Poor  fellow!  He 
couldn't  know  the  Christ  who  was  her  Saviour  or 
he  never  would  have  spoken  in  that  way  about  Him. 
What  could  such  a  man  preach?  What  was  there 
left  to  preach,  but  empty  words,  when  one  re- 
jected all  these  doctrines?  Would  she  have  to 
listen  to  a  man  like  that  Sunday  after  Sunday?  Did 
the  scholars  in  her  school,  and  their  parents,  and  the 
young  man  out  at  the  camp,  and  his  rough,  simple- 
hearted  companions  have  to  listen  to  preaching  from 
that  man,  when  they  listened  to  any?  Her  heart 
grew  sick  within  her,  and  she  knelt  beside  her  bed 
for  a  strengthening  word  with  the  Christ  who  since 

74 


A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

her  little  childhood  had  been  a  very  real  presence 
in  her  life.  / 

When  she  arose  from  her  knees  she  heard  the 
kitchen  door  slam  down-stairs  and  the  voice  of  Bud 
calling  his  mother.  She  went  to  her  door  and 
opened  it,  listening  a  moment,  and  then  called  the 
boy. 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  an  instant  after  her 
voice  was  heard,  and  then  Bud  appeared  at  the  foot 
of  the  stands,  very  frowning  as  to  brow,  and  very 
surly  as  to  tone: 

"What  d'ye  want?" 

It  was  plain  that  Bud  was  "sore." 

"Bud" — Margaret's  voice  was  sweet  and  a  bit 
cool  as  she  leaned  over  the  railing  and  surveyed  the 
boy;  she  hadn't  yet  got  over  her  compulsory  ride 
with  that  minister — UI  wanted  to  ask  you,  please, 
next  time  you  can't  keep  an  appointment  with  me 
don't  ask  anybody  else  to  take  your  place.  I  pre- 
fer to  pick  out  my  own  companions.  It  was  all 
right,  of  course,  if  you  had  to  go  somewhere  else, 
but  I  could  easily  have  gone  alone  or  waited  until 
another  time.  I'd  rather  not  have  you  ask  Mr. 
West  to  go  anywhere  with  me  again." 

Bud's  face  was  a  study.  It  cleared  suddenly  and 
his  jaw  dropped  in  surprise;  his  eyes  fairly  danced 
with  dawning  comprehension  and  pleasure,  and  then 
his  brow  drew  down  ominously. 

"I  never  ast  him,"  he  declared,  vehemently. 
"He  told  me  you  wanted  him  to  go,  and  fer  me  to 
get  out  of  the  way  'cause  you  didn't  want  to  hurt 
my  feelings.  Didn't  you  say  nothing  to  him  about 
it  at  all  this  morning?" 

75 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

"No,  indeed !"  said  Margaret,  with  flashing  eyes. 

"Well,  I  just  thought  he  was  that  kind  of  a  guy. 
I  told  ma  he  was  lying,  but  she  said  I  didn't  under- 
stand young  ladies,  and,  of  course,  you  didn't  want 
me  when  there  was  a  man,  and  especially  a  preacher, 
round.  Some  preacher  he  is!  This  's  the  second 
time  I've  caught  him  lying.  I  think  he's  the  limit. 
I  just  wish  you'd  see  our  missionary.  If  he  was 
here  he'd  beat  the  dust  out  o'  that  poor  stew.  He's 
some  man,  he  is.  He's  a  regular  white  man,  our 
missionary!  Just  you  wait  till  he  gets  back." 

Margaret  drew  a  breath  of  relief.  Then  the  mis- 
sionary was  a  real  man,  after  all.  Oh,  for  his  return! 

"Well,  I'm  certainly  very  glad  it  wasn't  your 
fault,  Bud.  I  didn't  feel  very  happy  to  be  turned 
off  that  way,"  said  the  teacher,  smiling  down  upon 
the  rough  head  of  the  boy. 

"You  bet  it  wasn't  my  fault!"  said  the  boy, 
vigorously.  "I  was  sore's  a  pup  at  you,  after  you'd 
made  a  date  and  all,  to  do  like  that;  but  I  thought  if 
you  wanted  to  go  with  that  guy  it  was  up  to  you." 

"Well,  I  didn't  and  I  don't.  You'll  please  under- 
stand hereafter  that  I'd  always  rather  have  your 
company  than  his.  How  about  going  down  to  the 
school-house  some  time  to-day?  Have  you  time?" 

"Didn't  you  go  yet?"  The  boy's  face  looked  as 
if  he  had  received  a  kingdom,  and  his  voice  had  a 
ring  of  triumph. 

"We  drove  down  there,  but  I  didn't  care  to  go  in 
without  you,  so  we  came  back." 

"Wanta  go  now?"     The  boy's  face  fairly  shone. 

"I'd  love  to.  I'll  be  ready  in  three  minutes. 
Could  we  carry  some  books  down?" 

76 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"Sure!  Oh — gee!  That  guy's  got  the  buck- 
board.  We'll  have  to  walk.  Doggone  him!" 

"I  shall  enjoy  a  walk.  I  want  to  find  out  just 
how  far  it  is,  for  I  shall  have  to  walk  every  day, 
you  know." 

"No,  you  won't,  neither,  'nless  you  wanta.  I  c'n 
always  hitch  up." 

"That  '11  be  very  nice  sometimes,  but  I'm  afraid 
I'd  get  spoiled  if  you  babied  me  all  the  time  that 
way.  I'll  be  right  down." 

They  went  out  together  into  the  sunshine  and 
wideness  of  the  morning,  and  it  seemed  a  new  day 
had  been  created  since  she  got  back  from  her  ride 
with  the  minister.  She  looked  at  the  sturdy,  honest- 
eyed  boy  beside  her,  and  was  glad  to  have  him  for 
a  companion. 

Just  in  front  of  the  school-house  Margaret  paused. 
"Oh,  I  forgot!  The  key!  Mr.  West  has  the  key  in 
his  pocket!  We  can't  get  in,  can  we?" 

"Aw,  we  don't  need  a  key,"  said  her  escort. 
"Just  you  wait!"  And  he  whisked  around  to  the 
back  of  the  building,  and  in  about  three  minutes  his 
shock  head  appeared  at  the  window.  He  threw  the 
^ash  open  and  dropped  out  a  wooden  box.  "There!" 
he  said,  triumphantly,  "you  c'n  climb  up  on  that, 
cantcha?  Here,  I'll  holdya  steady.  Take  holta  my 
hand." 

And  so  it  was  through  the  front  window  that  the 
new  teacher  of  the  Ridge  School  first  appeared  on 
her  future  scene  of  action  and  surveyed  her  little 
kingdom. 

Bud  threw  open  the  shutters,  letting  the  view  of 
the  plains  and  the  sunshine  into  the  big,  dusty  room, 
6  77 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

and  showed  her  the  new  blackboard  with  great 
pride. 

"There's  a  whole  box  o'  chalk  up  on  the  desk, 
too;  'ain't  never  been  opened  yet.  Dad  said  that 
was  your  property.  Want  I  should  open  it?" 

"Why,  yes,  you  might,  and  then  we'll  try  the 
blackboard,  won't  we?" 

Bud  went  to  work  gravely  opening  the  chalk-box 
as  if  it  were  a  small  treasure-chest,  and  finally  pro- 
duced a  long,  smooth  stick  of  chalk  and  handed  it 
to  her  with  shining  eyes. 

"You  try  it  first,  Bud,"  said  the  teacher,  seeing 
his  eagerness;  and  the  boy  went  forward  awesomely, 
as  if  it  were  a  sacred  precinct  and  he  unworthy  to 
intrude. 

Shyly,  awkwardly,  with  infinite  painstaking,  he 
wrote  in  a  cramped  hand,  "William  Budlong  Tan- 
ner," and  then,  growing  bolder,  "Ashland,  Arizona," 
with  a  big  flourish  underneath. 

"Some  class!"  he  said,  standing  back  and  regard- 
ing his  handiwork  with  pride.  "Say,  I  like  the 
sound  the  chalk  makes  on  it,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Margaret,  heartily,  "so  smooth 
and  business-like,  isn't  it?  You'll  enjoy  doing  ex- 
amples in  algebra  on  it,  won't  you?" 

"Good  night!  Algebra!  Me?  No  chance.  I 
can't  never  get  through  the  arithmetic.  The  last 
teacher  said  if  he'd  come  back  twenty  years  from 
now  he'd  still  find  me  working  compound  interest." 

"Well,  we'll  prove  to  that  man  that  he  wasn't 
much  of  a  judge  of  boys,"  said  Margaret,  with  a  tilt 
of  her  chin  and  a  glint  of  her  teacher-mettle  showing 
in  her  eyes.  "If  you're  not  in  algebra  before  two 

78 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

months  are  over  HI  miss  my  guess.  We'll  get  at 
it  right  away  and  show  him." 

Bud  watched  her,  charmed.  He  was  beginning 
to  believe  that  almost  anything  she  tried  would 
come  true. 

"Now,  Bud,  suppose  we  get  to  work.  I'd  like  to 
get  acquainted  with  my  class  a  little  before  Monday. 
Isn't  it  Monday  school  opens?  I  thought  so. 
Well,  suppose  you  give  me  the  names  of  the  scholars 
and  I'll  write  them  down,  and  that  will  help  me  to 
remember  them.  Where  will  you  begin?  Here, 
suppose  you  sit  down  in  the  front  seat  and  tell  me 
who  sits  there  and  a  little  bit  about  him,  and  I'll 
write  the  name  down;  and  then  you  move  to  the 
next  seat  and  tell  me  about  the  next  one,  and  so 
on.  Will  you?" 

"Sure!"  said  Bud,  entering  into  the  new  game. 
"But  it  ain't  a  'he'  sits  there.  It's  Susie  Johnson. 
She's  Bill  Johnson's  smallest  girl.  She  has  to  sit 
front  'cause  she  giggles  so  much.  She  has  yellow 
curls  and  she  ducks  her  head  down  and  snickers 
right  out  this  way  when  anything  funny  happens 
in  school."  And  Bud  proceeded  to  duck  and  wrig- 
gle in  perfect  imitation  of  the  small  Susie. 

Margaret  saw  the  boy's  power  of  imitation  was 
remarkable,  and  laughed  heartily  at  his  burlesque. 
Then  she  turned  and  wrote  "Susie  Johnson"  on  the 
board  in  beautiful  script. 

Bud  watched  with  admiration,  saying  softly  under 
his  breath;  "Gee!  that's  great,  that  blackboard, 
ain't  it?" 

Amelia  Schwartz  came  next.    She  was  long  and 

lank,  with  the  buttons  off  the  back  of  her  dress,  and 

79 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

hands  and  feet  too  large  for  her  garments.  Mar- 
garet could  not  help  but  see  her  in  the  clever  pan- 
tomime the  boy  carried  on.  Next  was  Rosa  Rogers, 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  cattleman,  the  pink-cheeked, 
blue-eyed  beauty  of  the  school,  with  all  the  boys  at 
her  feet  and  a  perfect  knowledge  of  her  power  over 
them.  Bud  didn't,  of  course,  state  it  that  way, 
but  Margaret  gathered  as  much  from  his  simpering 
smile  and  the  coy  way  he  looked  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eyes  as  he  described  her. 

Down  the  long  list  of  scholars  he  went,  row  after 
row,  and  when  he  came  to  the  seats  where  the  boys 
sat  his  tone  changed.  She  could  tell  by  the  shading 
of  his  voice  which  boys  were  the  ones  to  look  out  for. 

Jed  Brower,  it  appeared,  was  a  name  to  conjure 
with.  He  could  ride  any  horse  that  ever  stood  on 
four  legs,  he  could  outshoot  most  of  the  boys  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  he  never  allowed  any  teacher 
to  tell  him  what  to  do.  He  was  Texas  Brower's 
only  boy,  and  always  had  his  own  way.  His  father 
was  on  the  school  board.  Jed  Brower  was  held  in 
awe,  even  while  his  methods  were  despised,  by  some 
of  the  younger  boys.  He  was  big  and  powerful, 
and  nobody  dared  fool  with  him.  Bud  did  not 
exactly  warn  Margaret  that  she  must  keep  on  the 
right  side  of  Jed  Brower,  but  he  conveyed  that  im- 
pression without  words.  Margaret  understood.  She 
knew  also  that  Tad  Brooks,  Larry  Parker,  Jim  Long, 
and  Dake  Foster  were  merely  henchmen  of  the 
worthy  Jed,  and  not  neglible  quantities  when  taken 
by  themselves.  But  over  the  name  of  Timothy 
Forbes  — " Delicate  Forbes,"  Bud  explained  was  his 
nickname — the  boy  lingered  with  that  loving  in- 

80 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

flection  of  admiration  that  a  younger  boy  will  some- 
times have  for  a  husky,  courageous  older  lad.  The 
second  time  Bud  spoke  of  him  he  called  him 
"Forbeszy,"  and  Margaret  perceived  that  here  was 
Bud's  model  of  manhood.  Delicate  Forbes  could  out- 
shoot  and  outride  even  Jed  Brower  when  he  chose, 
and  his  courage  with  cattle  was  that  of  a  man. 
Moreover,  he  was  good  to  the  younger  boys  and 
wasn't  above  pitching  baseball  with  them  when  he 
had  nothing  better  afoot.  It  became  evident  from 
the  general  description  that  Delicate  Forbes  was 
not  called  so  from  any  lack  of  inches  to  his  stature. 
He  had  a  record  of  having  licked  every  man  teacher 
in  the  school,  and  beaten  by  guile  every  woman 
teacher  they  had  had  in  six  years.  Bud  was  loyal 
to  his  admiration,  yet  it  could  be  plainly  seen  that 
he  felt  Margaret's  greatest  hindrance  in  the  school 
would  be  Delicate  Forbes. 

Margaret  mentally  underlined  the  names  in  her 
memory  that  belonged  to  the  back  seats  in  the  first 
and  second  rows  of  desks,  and  went  home  praying 
that  she  might  have  wisdom  and  patience  to  deal 
with  Jed  Brower  and  Timothy  Forbes,  and  through 
1  them  to  manage  the  rest  of  her  school. 

She  surprised  Bud  at  the  dinner-table  by  hand- 
ing him  a  neat  diagram  of  the  school-room  desks 
with  the  correct  names  of  all  but  three  or  four  of  the 
scholars  written  on  them.  Such  a  feat  of  memory 
raised  her  several  notches  in  his  estimation. 

"Say,  that's  going  some!  Guess  you  won't  for- 
get nothing,  no  matter  how  much  they  try  to  make 
you." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  minister  did  not  appear  until  late  in  the 
evening,  after  Margaret  had  gone  to  her  room, 
for  which  she  was  sincerely  thankful.  She  could 
hear  his  voice,  fretful  and  complaining,  as  he  called 
loudly  for  Bud  to  take  the  horse.  It  appeared  he 
had  lost  his  way  and  wandered  many  miles  out  of 
the  trail.  He  blamed  the  country  for  having  no 
better  trails,  and  the  horse  for  not  being  able  to 
find  his  way  better.  Mr.  Tanner  had  gone  to  bed, 
but  Mrs.  Tanner  bustled  about  and  tried  to  comfort 
him. 

"Now  that's  too  bad!  Dearie  me!  Bud  oughta 
hev  gone  with  you,  so  he  ought.  Bud!  Oh,  Bud, 
you  'ain't  gonta  sleep  yet,  hev  you?  Wake  up  and 
come  down  and  take  this  horse  to  the  barn." 

But  Bud  declined  to  descend.  He  shouted  some 
sleepy  directions  from  his  loft  where  he  slept,  and 
said  the  minister  could  look  after  his  own  horse, 
he  "wasn'ta  gonta!"  There  was  "plentya  corn  in 
the  bin." 

The  minister  grumbled  his  way  to  the  barn,  highly 
incensed  at  Bud,  and  disturbed  the  calm  of  the 
evening  view  of  Margaret's  mountain  by  his  com- 
plaints when  he  returned.  He  wasn't  accustomed 
to  handling  horses,  and  he  thought  Bud  might  have 

82 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

stayed  up  and  attended  to  it  himself.  Bud  chuckled 
in  his  loft  and  stole  down  the  back  kitchen  roof 
while  the  minister  ate  his  late  supper.  Bud  would 
never  leave  the  old  horse  to  that  amateur's  tender 
mercies,  but  he  didn't  intend  to  make  it  easy  for 
the  amateur.  Margaret,  from  her  window-seat 
watching  the  night  in  the  darkness,  saw  Bud  slip 
off  the  kitchen  roof  and  run  to  the  barn,  and  she 
smiled  to  herself.  She  liked  that  boy.  He  was 
going  to  be  a  good  comrade. 

The  Sabbath  morning  dawned  brilliantly,  and  to 
the  homesick  girl  there  suddenly  came  a  sense  of 
desolation  on  waking.  A  strange  land  was  this, 
without  church-bells  or  sense  of  Sabbath  fitness. 
The  mountain,  it  is  true,  greeted  her  with  a  holy 
light  of  gladness,  but  mountains  are  not  dependent 
upon  humankind  for  being  in  the  spirit  on  the  Lord's 
day.  They  are  "  continually  praising  Him."  Mar- 
garet wondered  how  she  was  to  get  through  this 
day,  this  dreary  first  Sabbath  away  from  her  home 
and  her  Sabbath-school  class,  and  her  dear  old  church 
with  father  preaching.  She  had  been  away,  of 
course,  a  great  many  times  before,  but  never  to  a 
churchless  community.  It  was  beginning  to  dawn 
upon  her  that  that  was  what  Ashland  was — a  church- 
less  community.  As  she  recalled  the  walk  to  the 
school  and  the  ride  through  the  village  she  had  seen 
nothing  that  looked  like  a  church,  and  all  the  talk 
had  been  of  the  missionary.  They  must  have  ser- 
vices of  some  sort,  of  course,  and  probably  that 
flabby,  fish-eyed  man,  her  fellow-boarder,  was  to 
preach;  but  her  heart  turned  sick  at  thought  of 
listening  to  a  man  who  had  confessed  to  the  un- 

83 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

beliefs  that  he  had.  Of  course,  he  would  likely 
know  enough  to  keep  such  doubts  to  himself;  but 
he  had  told  her,  and  nothing  he  could  say  now  would 
help  or  uplift  her  in  the  least. 

She  drew  a  deep  sigh  and  looked  at  her  watch. 
It  was  late.  At-  home  the  early  Sabbath-school 
bells  would  be  ringing,  and  little  girls  in  white,  with 
bunches  of  late  fall  flowers  for  their  teachers,  and 
holding  hands  with  their  little  brothers,  would  be 
hurrying  down  the  street.  Father  was  in  his  study, 
going  over  his  morning  sermon,  and  mother  putting 
her  little  pearl  pin  in  her  collar,  getting  ready  to 
go  to  her  Bible  class.  Margaret  decided  it  was  time 
to  get  up  and  stop  thinking  of  it  all. 

She  put  on  a  little  white  dress  that  she  wore  to 
church  at  home  and  hurried  down  to  discover  what 
the  family  plans  were  for  the  day,  but  found,  to  her 
dismay,  that  the  atmosphere  below-stairs  was  just 
like  that  of  other  days.  Mr.  Tanner  sat  tilted  back 
in  a  dining-room  chair,  reading  the  weekly  paper, 
Mrs.  Tanner  was  bustling  in  with  hot  corn-bread, 
Bud  was  on  the  front-door  steps  teasing  the  dog, 
and  the  minister  came  in  with  an  air  of  weariness 
upon  him,  as  if  he  quite  intended  taking  it  out  on  his 
companions  that  he  had  experienced  a  trying  time 
on  Saturday.  He  did  not  look  in  the  least  like  a 
man  who  expected  to  preach  in  a  few  minutes.  He 
declined  to  eat  his  egg  because  it  was  cooked  too 
hard,  and  poor  Mrs.  Tanner  had  to  try  it  twice  be- 
fore she  succeeded  in  producing  a  soft-boiled  egg 
to  suit  him.  Only  the  radiant  outline  of  the  great 
mountain,  which  Margaret  could  see  over  the  min- 
ister's head,  looked  peaceful  and  Sabbath-like. 

84 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

"What  time  do  you  have  service?"  Margaret 
asked,  as  she  rose  from  the  table. 

"Service?"  It  was  Mr.  Tanner  who  echoed  her 
question  as  if  he  did  not  quite  know  what  she  meant. 

Mrs.  Tanner  raised  her  eyes  from  her  belated 
breakfast  with  a  worried  look,  like  a  hen  stretching 
her  neck  about  to  see  what  she  ought  to  do  next  for 
the  comfort  of  the  chickens  under  her  care.  It  was 
apparent  that  she  had  no  comprehension  of  what 
the  question  meant.  It  was  the  minister  who 
answered,  condescendingly: 

"Um!  Ah!  There  is  no  church  edifice  here,  you 
know,  Miss  Earle.  The  mission  station  is  located 
some  miles  distant." 

"I  know,"  said  Margaret,  "but  they  surely  have 
some  religious  service?" 

"I  really  don't  know,"  said  the  minister,  loftily, 
as  if  it  were  something  wholly  beneath  his  notice. 

"Then  you  are  not  going  to  preach  this  morn- 
ing?" In  spite  of  herself  there  was  relief  hi  her 
tone. 

"Most  certainly  not,"  he  replied,  stiffly.  "I 
came  out  here  to  rest,  and  I  selected  this  place 
largely  because  it  was  so  far  from  a  church.  I  wanted 
to  be  where  I  should  not  be  annoyed  by  requests  to 
preach.  Of  course,  ministers  from  the  East  would 
I  be  a  curiosity  in  these  Western  towns,  and  I  should 
really  get  no  rest  at  all  if  I  had  gone  where  my  ser- 
vices would  have  been  in  constant  demand.  When 
I  came  out  here  I  was  in  much  the  condition  of  our 
friend  the  minister  of  whom  you  have  doubtless 
heard.  He  was  starting  on  his  vacation,  and  he 
said  to  a  brother  minister,  with  a  smile  of  joy  and 

85 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

relief,  'No  preaching,  no  praying,  no  reading  of  the 
Bible  for  six  whole  weeks!'" 

" Indeed!"  said  Margaret,  freezingly.  "No,  I  am 
not  familiar  with  ministers  of  that  sort."  She 
turned  with  dismissal  in  her  manner  and  appealed 
to  Mrs.  Tanner.  "Then  you  really  have  no  Sabbath 
service  of  any  sort  whatever  in  town?"  There  was 
something  almost  tragic  in  her  face.  She  stood 
aghast  at  the  prospect  before  her. 

Mrs.  Tanner's  neck  stretched  up  a  little  longer, 
and  her  lips  dropped  apart  in  her  attempt  to  under- 
stand the  situation.  One  would  scarcely  have  been 
surprised  to  hear  her  say,  "  Cut-cut-cut-ca-daw-cut?" 
so  fluttered  did  she  seem. 

Then  up  spoke  Bud.  "We  gotta  Sunday-school, 
ma!"  There  was  pride  of  possession  in  Bud's  tone, 
and  a  kind  of  triumph  over  the  minister,  albeit  Bud 
had  adjured  Sunday-school  since  his  early  infancy. 
He  was  ready  now,  however,  to  be  offered  on  the 
altar  of  Sunday-school,  even,  if  that  would  please 
the  new  teacher — and  spite  the  minister.  "I'll  take 
you  ef  you  wanta  go."  He  looked  defiantly  at  the 
minister  as  he  said  it. 

But  at  last  Mrs.  Tanner  seemed  to  grasp  what 
was  the  matter.  "Why! — why! — why!  You  mean 
preaching  service!"  she  clucked  out.  "Why,  yes, 
Mr.  West,  wouldn't  that  be  fine?  You  could  preach 
for  us.  We  could  have  it  posted  up  at  the  saloon, , 
and  the  crossings,  and  out  a  ways  on  both  trails, 
and  you'd  have  quite  a  crowd.  They'd  come  from 
over  to  the  camp,  and  up  the  canon  way,  and  round- 
abouts. They'd  do  you  credit,  they  surely  would, 
Mr.  West.  And  you  could  have  the  school-house 

86 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

for  a  meeting-house.  Pa,  there,  is  one  of  the  school 
board.  There  wouldn't  be  a  bit  of  trouble — " 

"Um!  Ah!  Mrs.  Tanner,  I  assure  you  it's  quite 
out  of  the  question.  I  told  you  I  was  here  for  abso- 
lute rest.  I  couldn't  think  of  preaching.  Besides, 
it's  against  my  principles  to  preach  without  remu- 
neration. It's  a  wrong  idea.  The  workman  is  worthy 
of  his  lure,  you  know,  Mrs.  Tanner,  the  Good  Book 
says."  Mr.  West's  tone  took  on  a  self -righteous 
inflection. 

"  Oh !  Ef  that's  all,  that  'u'd  be  all  right !"  she  said, 
with  relief.  "You  could  take  up  a  collection.  The 
boys  would  be  real  generous.  They  always  are  when 
any  show  comes  along.  They'd  appreciate  it,  you 
know,  and  I'd  like  fer  Miss  Earle  here  to  hear  you 
preach.  It  'u'd  be  a  real  treat  to  her,  her  being  a 
preacher's  daughter  and  all."  She  turned  to  Mar- 
garet for  support,  but  that  young  woman  was  talk- 
ing to  Bud.  She  had  promptly  closed  with  his  offer 
to  take  her  to  Sunday-school,  and  now  she  hurried 
away  to  get  ready,  leaving  Mrs.  Tanner  to  make 
her  clerical  arrangements  without  aid. 

The  minister,  meantime,  looked  after  her  doubt- 
fully. Perhaps,  after  all,  it  would  have  been  a  good 
move  to  have  preached.  He  might  have  impressed 
that  difficult  young  woman  better  that  way  than 
any  other,  seeing  she  posed  as  being  so  interested 
in  religious  matters.  He  turned  to  Mrs.  Tanner  and 
began  to  ask  questions  about  the  feasibility  of  a 
church  service.  The  word  "collection"  sounded 
good  to  him.  He  was  not  averse  to  replenishing  his 
somewhat  depleted  treasury  if  it  could  be  done  so 

easily  as  that. 

87 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Meantime  Margaret,  up  in  her  room,  was  wonder- 
ing again  how  such  a  man  as  Mr.  West  ever  got 
into  the  Christian  ministry. 

West  was  still  endeavoring  to  impress  the  Tanners 
with  the  importance  of  his  late  charge  in  the  East 
as  Margaret  came  down-stairs.  His  pompous  tones, 
raised  to  favor  the  deafness  that  he  took  for  granted 
in  Mr.  Tanner,  easily  reached  her  ears. 

"I  couldn't,  of  course,  think  of  doing  it  every 
Sunday,  you  understand.  It  wouldn't  be  fair  to 
myself  nor  my  work  which  I  have  just  left;  but,  of 
course,  if  there  were  sufficient  inducement  I  might 
consent  to  preach  some  Sunday  before  I  leave." 

Mrs.  Tanner's  little  satisfied  cluck  was  quite 
audible  as  the  girl  closed  the  front  door  and  went 
out  to  the  waiting  Bud. 

The  Sunday-school  was  a  desolate  affair,  presided 
over  by  an  elderly  and  very  illiterate  man,  who 
nursed  his  elbows  and  rubbed  his  chin  meditatively 
between  the  slow  questions  which  he  read  out  of  the 
lesson-leaf.  The  woman  who  usually  taught  the  chil- 
dren was  called  away  to  nurse  a  sick  neighbor,  and 
the  children  were  huddled  together  in  a  restless 
group.  The  singing  was  poor,  and  the  whole  of  the 
exercises  dreary,  including  the  prayer.  The  few 
women  present  sat  and  stared  in  a  kind  of  awe  at 
the  visitor,  half  belligerently,  as  if  she  were  an 
intruder.  Bud  lingered  outside  the  door  and  finally 
disappeared  altogether,  reappearing  when  the  last 
hymn  was  sung.  Altogether  the  new  teacher  felt 
exceedingly  homesick  as  she  wended  her  way  back 
to  the  Tanners'  beside  Bud. 

"What  do  you  do  with  yourself  on  Sunday  after- 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

noons,  Bud?"  she  asked,  as  soon  as  they  were  out 
of  hearing  of  the  rest  of  the  group. 

The  boy  turned  wondering  eyes  toward  her. 
"Do?"  he  repeated,  puzzled.  "Why,  we  pass  the 
time  away,  like  'most  any  day.  There  ain't  much 
difference." 

A  great  desolation  possessed  her.  No  church! 
Worse  than  no  minister!  No  Sabbath!  What  kind 
of  a  land  was  this  to  which  she  had  come? 

The  boy  beside  her  smelled  of  tobacco  smoke.  He 
had  been  off  somewhere  smoking  while  she  was  in 
the  dreary  little  Sunday-school.  She  looked  at  his 
careless  boy-face  furtively  as  they  walked  along. 
He  smoked,  of  course,  like  most  boys  of  his  age, 
probably,  and  he  did  a  lot  of  other  things  he  ought 
not  to  do.  He  had  no  interest  in  God  or  righteous- 
ness, and  he  did  not  take  it  for  granted  that  the 
Sabbath  was  different  from  any  other  day.  A 
sudden  heart-sinking  came  upon  her.  What  was 
the  use  of  trying  to  do  anything  for  such  as  he?  Why 
not  give  it  up  now  and  go  back  where  there  was 
more  promising  material  to  work  upon  and  where 
she  would  be  welcome  indeed?  Of  course,  she  had 
known  things  would  be  discouraging,  but  somehow 
it  had  seemed  different  from  a  distance.  It  all 
looked  utterly  hopeless  now,  and  herself  crazy  to 
have  thought  she  could  do  any  good  in  a  place  like 
this. 

And  yet  the  place  needed  somebody!  That  pitiful 
little  Sunday-school!  How  forlorn  it  all  was!  She 
was  almost  sorry  she  had  gone.  It  gave  her  an  un- 
happy feeling  for  the  morrow,  which  was  to  be  her 
first  day  of  school. 

89 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

Then,  all  suddenly,  just  as  they  were  nearing  the 
Tanner  house,  there  came  one  riding  down  the 
street  with  all  the  glory  of  the  radiant  morning  in 
his  face,  and  a  light  in  his  eyes  at  seeing  her  that 
lifted  away  her  desolation,  for  here  at  last  was  a 
friend! 

She  wondered  at  herself.  An  unknown  stranger, 
and  a  self-confessed  failure  so  far  in  his  young  Me, 
and  yet  he  seemed  so  good  a  sight  to  her  amid  these 
uncongenial  surroundings! 


CHAPTER  XI 

T^HIS  stranger  of  royal  bearing,  riding  a  rough 
A  Western  pony  as  if  it  were  decked  with  golden 
trappings,  with  his  bright  hair  gleaming  like  Roman 
gold  in  the  sun,  and  his  blue-gray  eyes  looking  into 
hers  with  the  gladness  of  his  youth;  this  one  who 
had  come  to  her  out  of  the  night-shadows  of  the 
wilderness  and  led  her  into  safety!  Yes,  she  was 
glad  to  see  him. 

He  dismounted  and  greeted  her,  his  wide  hat  in 
his  hand,  his  eyes  upon  her  face,  and  Bud  stepped 
back,  watching  them  in  pleased  surprise.  This  was 
the  man  who  had  shot  all  the  lights  out  the  night 
of  the  big  riot  in  the  saloon.  He  had  also  risked 
his  life  in  a  number  of  foolish  ways  at  recent  festal 
carouses.  Bud  would  not  have  been  a  boy  had  he 
not  admired  the  young  man  beyond  measure;  and 
his  boy  worship  of  the  teacher  yielded  her  to  a 
fitting  rival.  He  stepped  behind  and  walked  beside 
the  pony,  who  was  following  his  master  meekly,  as 
though  he,  too,  were  under  the  young  man's  charm. 
"Oh,  and  this  is  my  friend,  William  Tanner," 
spoke  Margaret,  turning  toward  the  boy  loyally, 
(Whatever  good  angel  made  her  call  him  William? 
Bud's  soul  swelled  with  new  dignity  as  he  blushed 
and  acknowledged  the  introduction  by  a  grin.) 

91 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

"Glad  to  know  you,  Will,"  said  the  new-comer, 
extending  his  hand  in  a  hearty  shake  that  warmed 
the  boy's  heart  in  a  trice.  "I'm  glad  Miss  Earle 
has  so  good  a  protector.  You'll  have  to  look  out  for 
her.  She's  pretty  plucky  and  is  apt  to  stray  around 
the  wilderness  by  herself.  It  isn't  safe,  you  know, 
boy,  for  such  as  her.  Look  after  her,  will  you?" 

"Right  I  will,"  said  Bud,  accepting  the  com- 
mission as  if  it  were  Heaven-sent,  and  thereafter 
walked  behind  the  two  with  his  head  in  the  clouds. 
He  felt  that  he  understood  this  great  hero  of  the 
plains  and  was  one  with  him  at  heart.  There  could 
be  no  higher  honor  than  to  be  the  servitor  of  this 
man's  lady.  Bud  did  not  stop  to  question  how  the 
new  teacher  became  acquainted  with  the  young 
rider  of  the  plains.  It  was  enough  that  both  were 
young  and  handsome  and  seemed  to  belong  together. 
He  felt  they  were  fitting  friends. 

The  little  procession  walked  down  the  road  slow- 
ly, glad  to  prolong  the  way.  The  young  man  had 
brought  her  handkerchief,  a  filmy  trifle  of  an  excuse 
that  she  had  dropped  behind  her  chair  at  the  bunk- 
house,  where  it  had  lain  unnoticed  till  she  was  gone. 
He  produced  it  from  his  inner  pocket,  as  though  it 
had  been  too  precious  to  carry  anywhere  but  over 
his  heart,  yet  there  was  in  his  manner  nothing 
presuming,  not  a  hint  of  any  intimacy  other  than 
their  chance  acquaintance  of  the  wilderness  would 
warrant.  He  did  not  look  at  her  with  any  such 
look  as  West  had  given  every  time  he  spoke  to  her. 
She  felt  no  desire  to  resent  his  glance  when  it  rested 
upon  her  almost  worshipfully,  for  there  was  respect 
and  utmost  humility  in  his  look. 

92 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

The  men  had  sent  gifts:  some  arrow-heads  and  a 
curiously  fashioned  vessel  from  the  canon  of  the 
cave-dwellers;  some  chips  from  the  petrified  forest; 
a  fern  with  wonderful  fronds,  root  and  all;  and 
a  sheaf  of  strange,  beautiful  blossoms  carefully 
wrapped  in  wet  paper,  and  all  fastened  to  the 
saddle. 

Margaret's  face  kindled  with  interest  as  he  showed 
them  to  her  one  by  one,  and  told  her  the  history  of 
each  and  a  little  message  from  the  man  who  had 
sent  it.  Mom  Wallis,  too,  had  baked  a  queer  little 
cake  and  sent  it.  The  young  man's  face  was  tender 
as  he  spoke  of  it.  The  girl  saw  that  he  knew  what 
her  coming  had  meant  to  Mom  Wallis.  Her  mem- 
ory went  quickly  back  to  those  few  words  the  morn- 
ing she  had  wakened  in  the  bunk-house  and  found 
the  withered  old  woman  watching  her  with  tears  hi 
her  eyes.  Poor  Mom  Wallis,  with  her  pretty  girl- 
hood all  behind  her  and  such  a  blank,  dull  future 
ahead!  Poor,  tired,  ill-used,  worn-out  Mom  Wallis! 
Margaret's  heart  went  out  to  her. 

"They  want  to  know,"  said  the  young  man,  half 
hesitatingly,  "if  some  time,  when  you  get  settled 
and  have  time,  you  would  come  to  them  again  and 
sing?  I  tried  to  make  them  understand,  of  course, 
that  you  would  be  busy,  your  time  taken  with 
other  friends  and  your  work,  and  you  would  not 
want  to  come;  but  they  wanted  me  to  tell  you 
they  never  enjoyed  anything  so  much  in  years  as 
your  singing.  Why,  I  heard  Long  Jim  singing  'Old 
Folks  at  Home'  this  morning  when  he  was  saddling 
his  horse.  And  it's  made  a  difference.  The  men 

sort  of  want  to  straighten  up  the  bunk-room.  Jasper 
7  93 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

made  a  new  chair  yesterday.  He  said  it  would  do 
when  you  came  again."  Gardley  laughed  diffidently, 
as  if  he  knew  their  hopes  were  all  in  vain. 

But  Margaret  looked  up  with  sympathy  in  her 
face.  "I'll  come!  Of  course  I'll  come  some  time," 
she  said,  eagerly.  "  I'll  come  as  soon  as  I  can  arrange 
it.  You  tell  them  we'll  have  more  than  one  con- 
cert yet." 

The  young  man's  face  lit  up  with  a  quick  appre- 
ciation, and  the  flash  of  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at 
her  would  have  told  any  onlooker  that  he  felt  here 
was  a  girl  in  a  thousand,  a  girl  with  an  angel  spirit, 
if  ever  such  a  one  walked  the  earth. 

Now  it  happened  that  Rev.  Frederick  West  was 
walking  impatiently  up  and  down  in  front  of  the 
Tanner  residence,  looking  down  the  road  about  that 
time.  He  had  spent  the  morning  in  looking  over 
the  small  bundle  of  "show  sermons"  he  had  brought 
with  him  in  case  of  emergency,  and  had  about  de- 
cided to  accede  to  Mrs.  Tanner's  request  and  preach 
in  Ashland  before  he  left.  This  decision  had  put 
him  in  so  self -satisfied  a  mood  that  he  was  eager  to 
announce  it  before  his  fellow-boarder.  Moreover, 
he  was  hungry,  and  he  could  not  understand  why 
that  impudent  boy  and  that  coquettish  young 
woman  should  remain  away  at  Sunday-school  such 
an  interminable  time. 

Mrs.  Tanner  was  frying  chicken.  He  could  smell 
it  every  time  he  took  a  turn  toward  the  house.  It 
really  was  ridiculous  that  they  should  keep  dinner 
waiting  this  way.  He  took  one  more  turn  and  be- 
gan to  think  over  the  sermon  he  had  decided  to 
preach.  He  was  just  recalling  a  particularly  elo- 

94 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

quent  passage  when  he  happened  to  look  down  the 
road  once  more,  and  there  they  were,  almost  upon 
him!  But  Bud  was  no  longer  walking  with  the 
maiden.  She  had  acquired  a  new  escort,  a  man  of 
broad  shoulders  and  fine  height.  Where  had  he 
seen  that  fellow  before?  He  watched  them  as  they 
came  up,  his  small,  pale  eyes  narrowing  under  their 
yellow  lashes  with  a  glint  of  slyness,  like  some  mean 
little  animal  that  meant  to  take  advantage  of  its 
prey.  It  was  wonderful  how  many  different  things 
that  man  could  look  like  for  a  person  as  insignificant 
as  he  really  was! 

Well,  he  saw  the  look  between  the  man  and 
maiden;  the  look  of  sympathy  and  admiration  and 
a  fine  kind  of  trust  that  is  not  founded  on  mere  out- 
ward show,  but  has  found  some  hidden  fineness  of 
the  soul.  Not  that  the  reverend  gentleman  under- 
stood that,  however.  He  had  no  fineness  of  soul 
himself.  His  mind  had  been  too  thoroughly  taken 
up  with  himself  all  his  life  for  him  to  have  cultivated 
any. 

Simultaneous  with  the  look  came  his  recognition 
of  the  man  or,  at  least,  of  where  he  had  last  seen 
him,  and  his  little  soul  rejoiced  at  the  advantage 
he  instantly  recognized. 

He  drew  himself  up  importantly,  flattened  his 
chin  upward  until  his  lower  lip  protruded  in  a  pink 
roll  across  his  mouth,  drew  down  his  yellow  brows 
in  a  frown  of  displeasure,  and  came  forward  mentor- 
like  to  meet  the  little  party  as  it  neared  the  house. 
He  had  the  air  of  coming  to  investigate  and  possibly 
oust  the  stranger,  and  he  looked  at  him  keenly, 
critically,  offensively,  as  if  he  had  the  right  to  pro- 

95 


A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

tect  the  lady.  They  might  have  been  a  pair  of 
naughty  children  come  back  from  a  forbidden  frolic, 
from  the  way  he  surveyed  them.  But  the  beauty 
of  it  was  that  neither  of  them  saw  him,  being  oc- 
cupied with  each  other,  until  they  were  fairly  upon 
him.  Then,  there  he  stood  offensively,  as  if  he  were 
a  great  power  to  be  reckoned  with. 

"Well,  well,  well,  Miss  Margaret,  you  have  got 
home  at  last!"  he  said,  pompously  and  condescend- 
ingly, and  then  he  looked  into  the  eyes  of  her  com- 
panion as  if  demanding  an  explanation  of  his  pres- 
ence there. 

Margaret  drew  herself  up  haughtily.  His  use  of 
her  Christian  name  in  that  familiar  tone  annoyed 
her  exceedingly.  Her  eyes  flashed  indignantly,  but 
the  whole  of  it  was  lost  unless  Bud  saw  it,  for  Card- 
ley  had  faced  his  would-be  adversary  with  a  keen, 
surprised  scrutiny,  and  was  looking  him  over  coolly. 
There  was  that  in  the  young  man's  eye  that  made 
the  eye  of  Frederick  West  quail  before  him.  It  was 
only  an  instant  the  two  stood  challenging  each 
other,  but  in  that  short  time  each  knew  and  marked 
the  other  for  an  enemy.  Only  a  brief  instant  and 
then  Gardley  turned  to  Margaret,  and  before  she 
had  tune  to  think  what  to  say,  he  asked: 

"Is  this  man  a  friend  of  yours,  Miss  Earle?"  with 
marked  emphasis  on  the  last  word. 

"No/7  said  Margaret,  coolly,  "not  a  friend — a 
boarder  in  the  house."  Then  most  formally,  "Mr. 
West,  my  friend  Mr.  Gardley." 

If  the  minister  had  not  been  possessed  of  the  skin 
of  a  rhinoceros  he  would  have  understood  himself 
to  be  dismissed  at  that;  but  he  was  not  a  man 

96 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

accustomed  to  accepting  dismissal,  as  his  recent 
church  in  New  York  State  might  have  testified. 
He  stood  his  ground,  his  chin  flatter  than  ever,  his 
little  eyes  mere  slits  of  condemnation.  He  did  not 
acknowledge  the  introduction  by  so  much  as  the 
inclination  of  his  head.  His  hands  were  clasped  be- 
hind his  back,  and  his  whole  attitude  was  one  of 
righteous  belligerence. 

Gardley  gazed  steadily  at  him  for  a  moment,  a 
look  of  mingled  contempt  and  amusement  gradually 
growing  upon  his  face.  Then  he  turned  away  as  if 
the  man  were  too  small  to  notice. 

"You  will  come  in  and  take  dinner  with  me?" 
asked  Margaret,  eagerly.  "I  want  to  send  a  small 
package  to  Mrs.  Wallis  if  you  will  be  so  good  as 
to  take  it  with  you." 

"I'm  sorry  I  can't  stay  to  dinner,  but  I  have  an 
errand  in  another  direction  and  at  some  distance. 
I  am  returning  this  way,  however,  and,  if  I  may,  will 
call  and  get  the  package  toward  evening." 

Margaret's  eyes  spoke  her  welcome,  and  with  a 
few  formal  words  the  young  man  sprang  on  his 
horse,  said,  "So  long,  Will!"  to  Bud,  and,  ignoring 
the  minister,  rode  away. 

They  watched  him  for  an  instant,  for,  indeed,  he 
was  a  goodly  sight  upon  a  horse,  riding  as  if  he  and 
the  horse  were  utterly  one  in  spirit;  then  Margaret 
turned  quickly  to  go  into  the  house. 

' '  Um !  Ah !  Miss  Margaret !"  began  the  minister, 
with  a  commandatory  gesture  for  her  to  stop. 

Margaret  was  the  picture  of  haughtiness  as  she 
turned  and  said,  "Miss  Earle,  if  you  please!" 

"Uml     Ah!     Why,    certainly,   Miss — ah — Earle, 

97 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

if  you  wish  it.  Will  you  kindly  remain  here  for  a 
moment?  I  wish  to  speak  with  you.  Bud,  you 
may  go  on." 

"I'll  go  when  I  like,  and  it's  none  of  your  business!" 
muttered  Bud,  ominously,  under  his  breath.  He 
looked  at  Margaret  to  see  if  she  wished  him  to  go. 
He  had  an  idea  that  this  might  be  one  of  the  times 
when  he  was  to  look  after  her. 

She  smiled  at  him  understandingly.  "William 
may  remain,  Mr.  West,"  she  said,  sweetly.  "Any- 
thing you  have  to  say  to  me  can  surely  be  said  in 
his  presence,"  and  she  laid  her  hand  lightly  on  Bud's 
sleeve. 

Bud  looked  down  at  the  hand  proudly  and  grew 
inches  taller  enjoying  the  minister's  frown. 

"Urn!  Ah!"  said  West,  unabashed.  "Well,  I 
merely  wished  to  warn  you  concerning  the  char- 
acter of  that  person  who  has  just  left  us.  He  is 
really  not  a  proper  companion  for  you.  Indeed,  I 
may  say  he  is  quite  the  contrary,  and  that  to  my 
personal  knowledge — " 

"He's  as  good  as  you  are  and  better!"  growled 
Bud,  ominously. 

"Be  quiet,  boy!  I  wasn't  speaking  to  you!"  said 
West,  as  if  he  were  addressing  a  slave.  "If  I  hear 
another  word  from  your  lips  I  shall  report  it  to  your 
father!" 

"Go  's  far  's  you  like  and  see  how  much  I  care!" 
taunted  Bud,  but  was  stopped  by  Margaret's  gentle 
pressure  on  his  arm. 

"Mr.  West,  I  thought  I  made  you  understand 
that  Mr.  Gardley  is  my  friend." 

"Um!    Ah!    Miss  Earle,  then  all  I  have  to  say 

98 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

is  that  you  have  formed  a  most  unwise  friendship,, 
and  should  let  it  proceed  no  further.  Why,  my  dear 
young  lady,  if  you  knew  all  there  is  to  know  about 
hun  you  would  not  think  of  speaking  to  that  young 


man." 


"Indeed!  Mr.  West,  I  suppose  that  might  be 
true  of  a  good  many  people,  might  it  not,  if  we  knew 
all  there  is  to  know  about  them?  Nobody  but  God 
could  very  well  get  along  with  some  of  us." 

"But,  my  dear  young  lady,  you  don't  understand. 
This  young  person  is  nothing  but  a  common  ruffian,, 
a  gambler,  in  fact,  and  an  habitue"  at  the  saloons. 
I  have  seen  him  myself  sitting  in  a  saloon  at  a  very 
late  hour  playing  with  a  vile,  dirty  pack  of  cards, 
and  in  the  company  of  a  lot  of  low-down  creat- 


ures— " 


"May  I  ask  how  you  came  to  be  in  a  saloon  at 
that  hour,  Mr.  West?"  There  was  a  gleam  of  mis- 
chief in  the  girl's  eyes,  and  her  mouth  looked  as  if 
she  were  going  to  laugh,  but  she  controlled  it. 

The  minister  turned  very  red  indeed.  "Well,  I — 
ah — I  had  been  called  from  my  bed  by  shouts  and 
the  report  of  a  pistol.  There  was  a  fight  going  on 
in  the  room  adjoining  the  bar,  and  I  didn't  know  but 
my  assistance  might  be  needed!"  (At  this  juncture 
Bud  uttered  a  sort  of  snort  and,  placing  his  hands 
over  his  heart,  ducked  down  as  if  a  sudden  pain 
had  seized  him.)  "But  imagine  my  pain  and  as- 
tonishment when  I  was  informed  that  the  drunken 
brawl  I  was  witnessing  was  but  a  nightly  and  com- 
mon occurrence.  I  may  say  I  remained  for  a  few 
minutes,  partly  out  of  curiosity,  as  I  wished  to  see 
all  kinds  of  life  in  this  new  world  for  the  sake  of  a 

99 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

book  I  am  thinking  of  writing.  I  therefore  took 
careful  note  of  the  persons  present,  and  was  thus 
able  to  identify  the  person  who  has  just  ridden 
away  as  one  of  the  chief  factors  in  that  evening's 
entertainment.  He  was,  in  fact,  the  man  who, 
when  he  had  pocketed  all  the  money  on  the  gaming- 
table, arose  and,  taking  out  his  pistol,  shot  out  the 
lights  in  the  room,  a  most  dangerous  and  irregular 
proceeding — " 

"Yes,  and  you  came  within  an  ace  of  being  shot, 
pa  says.     The  Kid's  a  dead  shot,  he  is,  and  you 
were  right  in  the  way.     Served  you  right  for  going 
where  you  had  no  business!" 

"I  did  not  remain  longer  in  that  place,  as  you  may 
imagine,"  went  on  West,  ignoring  Bud,  "for  I  found 
it  was  no  place  for  a — for — a — ah — minister  of  the 
gospel;  but  I  remained  long  enough  to  hear  from 
the  lips  of  this  person  with  whom  you  have  just 
been  walking  some  of  the  most  terrible  language 
my  ears  have  ever  been  permitted  to — ah — witness!" 

But  Margaret  had  heard  all  that  she  intended  to 
listen  to  on  that  subject.  With  decided  tone  she 
interrupted  the  voluble  speaker,  who  was  evidently 
enjoying  his  own  eloquence. 

"Mr.  West,  I  think  you  have  said  all  that  it  is  nec- 
essary to  say.  There  are  still  some  things  about  Mr. 
Gardley  that  you  evidently  do  not  know,  but  I  think 
you  are  in  a  fair  way  to  learn  them  if  you  stay  in 
this  part  of  the  country  long.  William,  isn't  that 
your  mother  calling  us  to  dinner?  Let  us  go  in; 
I'm  hungry." 

Bud  followed  her  up  the  walk  with  a  triumphant 
wink  at  the  discomfited  minister,  and  they  disap- 

100 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

peared  into  the  house;  but  when  Margaret  went  up 
to  her  room  and  took  off  her  hat  in  front  of  the 
little  warped  looking-glass  there  were  angry  tears 
in  her  eyes.  She  never  felt  more  like  crying  in  her 
life.  Chagrin  and  anger  and  disappointment  were 
all  struggling  in  her  soul,  yet  she  must  not  cry,  for 
dinner  would  be  ready  and  she  must  go  down.  Never 
should  that  mean  little  meddling  man  see  that  his 
words  had  pierced  her  soul. 

For,  angry  as  she  was  at  the  minister,  much  as 
she  loathed  his  petty,  jealous  nature  and  saw  through 
his  tale-bearing,  something  yet  told  her  that  his 
picture  of  young  Gardley's  wildness  was  probably 
true,  and  her  soul  sank  within  her  at  the  thought. 
It  was  just  what  had  come  in  shadowy,  instinctive 
fear  to  her  heart  when  he  had  hinted  at  his  being  a 
"roughneck,"  yet  to  have  it  put  baldly  into  words 
by  an  enemy  hurt  her  deeply,  and  she  looked  at  her- 
self in  the  glass  half  frightened.  "  Margaret  Earle, 
have  you  come  out  to  the  wilderness  to  lose  your 
heart  to  the  first  handsome  sower  of  wild  oats  that 
you  meet?"  her  true  eyes  asked  her  face  in  the 
glass,  and  Margaret  Earle's  heart  turned  sad  at  the 
question  and  shrank  back.  Then  she  dropped  upon 
her  knees  beside  her  gay  little  rocking-chair  and 
buried  her  face  in  its  flowered  cushions  and  cried  to 
her  Father  in  heaven: 

"Oh,  my  Father,  let  me  not  be  weak,  but  with  all 
my  heart  I  cry  to  Thee  to  save  this  young,  strong, 
courageous  life  and  not  let  it  be  a  failure.  Help 
him  to  find  Thee  and  serve  Thee,  and  if  his  life  has 
been  all  wrong — and  I  suppose  it  has — oh,  make  it 

right  for  Jesus'  sake!    If  there  is  anything  that  I 

101 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

can  do  to  Kelp,  show  me  how,  and  don't  let  me  make 
mistakes.  Oh,  Jesus,  Thy  power  is  great.  Let  this 
young  man  feel  it  and  yield  himself  to  it." 

She  remained  silently  praying  for  a  moment  more, 
putting  her  whole  soul  into  the  prayer  and  knowing 
that  she  had  been  called  thus  to  pray  for  him  until 
her  prayer  was  answered. 

She  came  down  to  dinner  a  few  minutes  later  with 
a  calm,  serene  face,  on  which  was  no  hint  of  her 
recent  emotion,  and  she  managed  to  keep  the  table 
conversation  wholly  in  her  own  hands,  telling  Mr. 
Tanner  about  her  home  town  and  her  father  and 
mother.  When  the  meal  was  finished  the  minister 
had  no  excuse  to  think  that  the  new  teacher  was 
careless  about  her  friends  and  associates,  and  he  was 
well  informed  about  the  high  principles  of  her  family. 

But  West  had  retired  into  a  sulky  mood  and  ut- 
tered not  a  word  except  to  ask  for  more  chicken  and 
coffee  and  a  second  helping  of  pie.  It  was,  perhaps, 
during  that  dinner  that  he  decided  it  would  be  best 
for  him  to  preach  in  Ashland  on  the  following  Sun- 
day. The  young  lady  could  be  properly  hnpfessed 
with  his  dignity  in  no  other  way. 


CHAPTER  XII 

WHEN  Lance  Gardley  came  back  to  the  Tan-  ' 
ners'  the  sun  was  preparing  the  glory  of  its' 
evening  setting,  and  the  mountain  was  robed  in  all 
its  rosiest  veils. 

Margaret  was  waiting  for  him,  with  the  dog  Cap- 
tain beside  her,  wandering  back  and  forth  in  the 
unfenced  dooryard  and  watching  her  mountain. 
It  was  a  relief  to  her  to  find  that  the  minister  occu- 
pied a  room  on  the  first  floor  in  a  kind  of  ell  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  house  from  her  own  room  and 
her  mountain.  He  had  not  been  visible  that  after- 
noon, and  with  Captain  by  her  side  and  Bud  on  the 
front-door  step  reading  The  Sky  Pilot  she  felt  com- 
paratively safe.  She  had  read  to  Bud  for  an  hour 
and  a  half,  and  he  was  thoroughly  interested  in  the 
story;  but  she  was  sure  he  would  keep  the  minister 
away  at  all  costs.  As  for  Captain,  he  and  the 
minister  were  sworn  enemies  by  this  time.  He 
growled  every  time  West  came  near  or  spoke  to  her. 

She  made  a  picture  standing  with  her  hand  on 
Captain's  shaggy,  noble  head,  the  lace  of  her  sleeve 
falling  back  from  the  white  arm,  her  other  hand 
raised  to  shade  her  face  as  she  looked  away  to  the 
glorified  mountain,  a  slim,  white  figure  looking  wist- 
fully off  at  the  sunset.  The  young  man  took  off 

103 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

his  hat  and  rode  his  horse  more  softly,  as  if  in  the 
presence  of  the  holy. 

The  dog  lifted  one  ear,  and  a  tremor  passed  through 
his  frame  as  the  rider  drew  near;  otherwise  he  did 
not  stir  from  his  position;  but  it  was  enough.  The 
girl  turned,  on  the  alert  at  once,  and  met  him  with 
a  smile,  and  the  young  man  looked  at  her  as  if  an 
angel  had  deigned  to  smile  upon  him.  There  was 
a  humility  in  his  fine  face  that  sat  well  with  the 
courage  written  there,  and  smoothed  away  all  hard- 
ness for  the  time,  so  that  the  girl,  looking  at  him  in 
the  light  of  the  revelations  of  the  morning,  could 
hardly  believe  it  had  been  true,  yet  an  inner  fineness 
of  perception  taught  her  that  it  was. 

The  young  man  dismounted  and  left  his  horse 
standing  quietly  by  the  roadside.  He  would  not 
stay,  he  said,  yet  lingered  by  her  side,  talking  for  a 
few  minutes,  watching  the  sunset  and  pointing  out 
its  changes. 

She  gave  him  the  little  package  for  Mom  Wailis. 
There  was  a  simple  lace  collar  in  a  little  white  box, 
and  a  tiny  leather-bound  book  done  in  russet  suede 
with  gold  lettering. 

"Tell  her  to  wear  the  collar  and  think  of  me  when- 
ever she  dresses  up." 

"I'm  afraid  that  '11  never  be,  then,"  said  the  young 
man,  with  a  pitying  smile.  "Mom  Wailis  never 
dresses  up." 

"Tell  her  I  said  she  must  dress  up  evenings  for 
supper,  and  I'll  make  her  another  one  to  change 
with  that  and  bring  it  when  I  come." 

He  smiled  upon  her  again,  that  wondering,  almost 
worshipful  smile,  as  if  he  wondered  if  she  were  real, 

104 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

after  all,  so  different  did  she  seem  from  his  idea  of 
girls. 

"And  the  little  book,"  she  went  on,  apologetically; 
"I  suppose  it  was  foolish  to  send  it,  but  something 
she  said  made  me  think  of  some  of  the  lines  in  the 
poem.  I've  marked  them  for  her.  She  reads, 
doesn't  she?" 

"A  little,  I  think.  I  see  her  now  and  then  read 
the  papers  that  Pop  brings  home  with  him.  I 
don't  fancy  her  literary  range  is  very  wide,  how- 


ever." 


"Of  course,  I  suppose  it  is  ridiculous!  And  may- 
be she'll  not  understand  any  of  it;  but  tell  her  I 
sent  her  a  message.  She  must  see  if  she  can  find  it 
in  the  poem.  Perhaps  you  can  explain  it  to  her. 
It's  Browning's  ' Rabbi  Ben  Ezra.'  You  know  it, 
don't  you?" 

"I'm  afraid  not.  I  was  intent  on  other  things 
about  the  time  when  I  was  supposed  to  be  giving 
my  attention  to  Browning,  or  I  wouldn't  be  what  I 
am  to-day,  I  suppose.  But  I'll  do;  my  best  with 
what  wits  I  have.  What's  it  about?  Couldn't  you 
give  me  a  pointer  or  two?" 

"It's  the  one  beginning: 

"  Grow  old  along  with  me! 
The  best  is  yet  to  be, 
The  last  of  life,  for  which  the  first  was  made: 
Our  times  are  in  His  hand 
Who  saith,  '  A  whole  I  planned, 
Youth  shows  but  hatf;   trust  God:   see  all,  nor 
be  afraid!*"      7 

He  looked  down  ayher  still  with  that  wondering 
smile.  "Grow  old  albng  with  you!"  he  said,  grave- 

105 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

ly,  and  then  sighed.  "You  don't  look  as  if  you 
ever  would  grow  old." 

"That's  it,"  she  said,  eagerly.  "That's  the 
whole  idea.  We  don't  ever  grow  old  and  get  done 
with  it  all,  we  just  go  on  to  bigger  things,  wiser  and 
better  and  more  beautiful,  till  we  come  to  under- 
stand and  be  a  part  of  the  whole  great  plan  of  God!" 

He  did  not  attempt  an  answer,  nor  did  he  smile 
now,  but  just  looked  at  her  with  that  deeply  quizzi- 
cal, grave  look  as  if  his  soul  were  turning  over  the 
matter  seriously.  She  held  her  peace  and  waited, 
unable  to  find  the  right  word  to  speak.  Then  he 
turned  and  looked  off,  an  infinite  regret  growing  hi 
his  face. 

"That  makes  living  a  different  thing  from  the 
way  most  people  take  it,"  he  said,  at  last,  and  his 
tone  showed  that  he  was  considering  it  deeply. 

"Does  it?"  she  said,  softly,  and  looked  with  him 
toward  the  sunset,  still  half  seeing  his  quiet  profile 
against  the  light.  At  last  it  came  to  her  that  she 
must  speak.  Half  fearfully  she  began:  "I've  been 
thinking  about  what  you  said  on  the  ride.  You  said 
you  didn't  make  good.  I — wish  you  would.  I — I'm 
sure  you  could — " 

She  looked  up  wistfully  and  saw  the  gentleness 
come  into  his  face  as  if  the  fountain  of  his  soul,  long 
sealed,  had  broken  up,  and  as  if  he  saw  a  possibility 
before  him  for  the.  first  time  through  the  words  she 
had  spoken. 

At  last  he  turned  to  for  with  that  wondering 
smile  again.  "Why  should  you  care?"  he  asked. 
The  words  would  have  sounded  harsh  if  his  tone  had 

not  been  so  gentle. 

106 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

Margaret  hesitated  for  an  answer.  "I  don't 
know  how  to  tell  it,"  she  said,  slowly.  ''There's 
another  verse,  a  few  lines  more  hi  that  poem,  per- 
haps you  know  them? — 

'All  I  never  could  be,  All,  men  ignored  in  me, 
This  I  was  worth  to  God,  whose  wheel  the  pitcher  shaped.' 

I  want  it  because — well,  perhaps  because  I  feel 
you  are  worth  all  that  to  God.  I  would  like  to  see 
you  be  that." 

He  looked  down  at  her  again,  and  was  still  so  long 
that  she  felt  she  had  failed  miserably. 

"I  hope  you  will  excuse  my  speaking,"  she  added. 
"I —  It  seems  there  are  so  many  grand  possibilities 
in  life,  and  for  you — I  couldn't  bear  to  have  you  say 
you  hadn't  made  good,  as  if  it  were  all  over." 

"I'm  glad  you  spoke,"  he  said,  quickly.  "I  guess 
perhaps  I  have  been  all  kinds  of  a  fool.  You  have 
made  me  feel  how  many  kinds  I  have  been." 

"Oh  no!"  she  protested. 

"You  don't  know  what  I  have  been,"  he  said, 
sadly,  and  then  with  sudden  conviction,  as  it  he 
read  her  thoughts:  "You  do  know!  That  prig  of 
a  parson  has  told  you!  Well,  it's  just  as  well  you 
should  know.  It's  right!" 

A  wave  of  misery  passed  over  his  face  and  erased 
all  its  brightness  and  hope.  Even  the  gentleness 
was  gone.  He  looked  haggard  ajid  drawn  with 
hopelessness  all  in  a  moment. 

"Do  you  think  it  would  matter  to  me — anything 
that  man  would  say?"  she  protested,  all  her  woman's 

heart  going  out  in  pity. 

107 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

"But  it  was  true,   all  he  said,   probably,   and 


more — " 


"It  doesn't  matter,"  she  said,  eagerly.  "The 
other  is  true,  too.  Just  as  the  poem  says,  'All  that 
man  ignores  in  you,  just  that  you  are  worth  to  God!' 
And  you  can  be  what  He  meant  you  to  be.  I  have 
been  praying  all  the  afternoon  that  He  would  help 
you  to  be." 

"Have  you?"  he  said,  and  his  eyes  lit  up  again 
as  if  the  altar-fires  of  hope  were  burning  once  more. 
"Have  you?  I  thank  you." 

"You  came  to  me  when  I  was  lost  in  the  wilder- 
ness," she  said,  shyly.  "I  wanted  to  help  you  back 
—if— I  might." 

"You  will  help — you  have!"  he  said,  earnestly. 
"And  I  was  far  enough  off  the  trail,  too,  but  if  there's 
any  way  to  get  back  I'll  get  there."  He  grasped 
her  hand  and  held  it  for  a  second.  "Keep  up  that 
praying,"  he  said.  "I'll  see  what  can  be  done." 

Margaret  looked  up.  "Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  so 
glad!" 

He  looked  reverently  into  her  eyes,  all  the  man- 
hood in  him  stirred  to  higher,  better  things.  Then, 
suddenly,  as  they  stood  together,  a  sound  smote  their 
ears  as  from  another  world. 

"Urn!    Ah!—" 

The  minister  stood  within  the  doorway,  barred 
by  Bud  in  scowling  defiance,  and  guarded  by  Cap, 
who  gave  an  answering  growl. 

Gardley  and  Margaret  looked  at  each  other  and 
smiled,  then  turned  and  walked  slowly  down  to 
where  the  pony  stood.  They  did  not  wish  to  talk 
here  in  that  alien  presence.  Indeed,  it  seemed  that 

108 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

more  words  were  not  needed — they  would  be  a 
desecration. 

So  he  rode  away  into  the  sunset  once  more  with 
just  another  look  and  a  handclasp,  and  she  turned, 
strangely  happy  at  heart,  to  go  back  to  her  dull 
surroundings  and  her  uncongenial  company. 

"Come,  William,  let's  have  a  praise  service,"  she 
said,  brightly,  pausing  at  the  doorway,  but  ignoring 
the  scowling  minister. 

"A  praise  service!  What's  a  praise  service?" 
asked  the  wondering  Bud,  shoving  over  to  let  her 
sit  down  beside  him. 

She  sat  with  her  back  to  West,  and  Cap  came  and 
lay  at  her  feet  with  the  white  of  one  eye  on  the 
minister  and  a  growl  ready  to  gleam  between  his 
teeth  any  minute.  There  was  just  no  way  for  the 
minister  to  get  out  unless  he  jumped  over  them  or 
went  out  the  back  door;  but  the  people  in  the  door- 
way had  the  advantage  of  not  having  to  look  at 
him,  and  he  couldn't  very  well  dominate  the  con- 
versation standing  so  behind  them. 

"Why,  a  praise  service  is  a  service  of  song  and 
gladness,  of  course.  You  sing,  don't/  you?  Of 
course.  Well,  what  shall  we  sing?  D6  you  know 
this?"  And  she  broke  softly  into  song:/ 

"When  peace  like  a  river  attendeth  m(y  way; 

When  sorrows  like  sea-billows  roll;/ 
Whatever  my  lot  Thou  hast  taught  toe  to  say, 
It  is  well,  it  is  well  with  my  soul/' 

Bud  did  not  know  the  song,  but  he  did  not  intend 
to  be  balked  with  the  minister  standing  right  behind 
him,  ready,  no  doubt,  to  jump  in  and  take  the  prece- 

8  109 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

dence;  so  he  growled  away  at  a  note  in  the  bass, 
turning  it  over  and  over  and  trying  to  make  it  fit, 
like  a  dog  gnawing  at  a  bare  bone;  but  he  managed 
to  keep  tune  and  make  it  sound  a  little  like  singing. 
The  dusk  was  falling  fast  as  they  finished  the  last 
verse,  Margaret  singing  the  words  clear  and  distinct, 
Bud  growling  unintelligibly  and  snatching  at  words  he 
had  never  heard  before.  Once  more  Margaret  sang: 

"Abide  with  me;   fast  falls  the  eventide; 
The  darkness  deepens;    Lord,  with  me  abide! 
When  other  refuge  fails  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless,  oh,  abide  with  me!" 

Out  on  the  lonely  trail  wending  his  way  toward 
the  purple  mountain — the  silent  way  to  the  bunk- 
house  at  the  camp — in  that  clear  air  where  sound 
travels  a  long  distance  the  traveler  heard  the  song, 
and  something  thrilled  his  soul.  A  chord  that  never 
had  been  touched  in  him  before  was  vibrating,  and 
its  echoes  would  be  heard  through  all  his  life. 

On  and  on  sang  Margaret,  just  because  she  could 
not  bear  to  stop  and  hear  the  commonplace  talk 
which  would  be  about  her.  Song  after  song  thrilled 
through  the  night's  wideness.  The  stars  came  out 
in  thick  clusters.  Father  Tanner  had  long  ago 
dropped  his  weekly  paper  and  tilted  nis  chair  back 
against  the  wall,  with  his  eyes  half  closed  to  listen, 
and  his  wife  had  settled  down  comfortably  on  the 
carpet  sofa,  with  her  hands  nicely  folded  in  her  lap, 
as  if  she  were  at  church.  The  minister,  after  silently 
surveying  the  situation  for  a  song  or  two,  attempted 
to  johl  his  voice  to  the  chorus.  He  had  a  voice  like 

a  cross-cut  saw,  but  he  didn't  do  much  harm  in  the 

no 

» 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

background  that  way,  though  Cap  did  growl  now 
and  then,  as  if  it  put  his  nerves  on  edge.    And  by 
and  by  Mr.  Tanner  quavered  in  with  a  note  or  two. 
Finally  Margaret  sang: 

"Sun  of  my  soul,  Thou  Saviour  dear, 
It  is  not  night  if  Thou  art  near, 
Oh,  may  no  earth-born  cloud  arise 
To  hide  Thee  from  Thy  servant's  eyes." 

During  this  hymn  the  minister  had  slipped  out  the 
back  door  and  gone  around  to  the  front  of  the  house. 
He  could  not  stand  being  in  the  background  any 
longer;  but  as  the  last  note  died  away  Margaret 
arose  and,  bidding  Bud  good  night,  slipped  up  to 
her  room. 

There,  presently,  beside  her  darkened  window, 
with  her  face  toward  the  mountain,  she  knelt  to 
pray  for  the  wanderer  who  was  trying  to  find  his 
way  out  of  the  wilderness. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MONDAY  morning  found  Margaret  at  the  school- 
house  nerved  for  her  new  task. 

One  by  one  the  scholars  trooped  in,  shyly  or  half 
defiantly,  hung  their  hats  on  the  hooks,  put  their 
dinner-pails  on  the  shelf,  looked  furtively  at  her,  and 
sank  into  their  accustomed  seats;  that  is,  the  seats 
they  had  occupied  during  the  last  term  of  school. 
The  big  boys  remained  outside  until  Bud,  acting 
under  instructions  from  Margaret — after  she  had 
been  carefully  taught  the  ways  of  the  school  by 
Bud  himself — rang  the  big  bell.  Even  then  they 
entered  reluctantly  and  as  if  it  were  a  great  con- 
descension that  they  came  at  all,  Jed  and  "  Deli- 
cate" coming  in  last,  with  scarcely  a  casual  glance 
toward  the  teacher's  desk,  as  if  she  were  a  mere 
fraction  in  the  scheme  of  the  school.  She  did  not 
need  to  be  told  which  was  Timothy  and  which  was 
Jed.  Bud's  description  had  been  perfect.  Her 
heart,  by  the  way,  instantly  went  out  to  Timothy. 
Jed  was  another  proposition.  He  had  thick,  over- 
hanging eyebrows,  and  a  mouth  that  loved  to  make 
trouble  and  laugh  over  it.  He  was  going  to  be  hard 
to  conquer.  She  wasn't  sure  the  conquering  would 
be  interesting,  either. 

Margaret  stood  by  the  desk,  watching  them  all 

with  a  pleasant  smile.    She  did  not  frown  at  the 

112 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

unnecessary  shuffling  of  feet  nor  the  loud  remarks  of 
the  boys  as  they  settled  into  their  seats.  She  just 
stood  and  watched  them  interestedly,  as  though  her 
time  had  not  yet  come. 

Jed  and  Timothy  were  carrying  on  a  rumbling 
conversation.  Even  after  they  took  their  seats  they 
kept  it  up.  It  was  no  part  of  then-  plan  to  let  the 
teacher  suppose  they  saw  her  or  minded  her  in  the 
least.  They  were  the  dominating  influences  in  that 
school,  and  they  wanted  her  to  know  it,  right  at  the 
start;  then  a  lot  of  trouble  would  be  saved.  If  they 
didn't  like  her  and  couldn't  manage  her  they  didn't 
intend  she  should  stay,  and  she  might  as  well  under- 
stand that  at  once. 

Margaret  understood  it  fully.  Yet  she  stood 
quietly  and  watched  them  with  a  look  of  deep  in- 
terest on  her  face  and  a  light  almost  of  mischief  in 
her  eyes,  while  Bud  grew  redder  and  redder  over 
the  way  his  two  idols  were  treating  the  new  teacher. 
One  by  one  the  school  became  aware  of  the  twinkle 
in  the  teacher's  eyes,  and  grew  silent  to  watch,  and 
one  by  one  they  began  to  smile  over  the  coming 
scene  when  Jed  and  Timothy  should  discover  it,  and, 
worst  of  all,  find  out  that  it  was  actually  directed 
against  them.  They  would  expect  severity,  or  fear, 
or  a  desire  to  placate;  but  a  twinkle — it  was  more 
'than  the  school  could  decide  what  would  happen 
under  such  circumstances.  No  one  in  that  room 
would  ever  dare  to  laugh  at  either  of  those  two  boys. 
But  the  teacher  was  almost  laughing  now,  and  the 
twinkle  had  taken  the  rest  of  the  room  into  the 
secret,  while  she  waited  amusedly  until  the  two 
should  finish  the  conversation. 

113 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

The  room  grew  suddenly  deathly  still,  except  for 
the  whispered  growls  of  Jed  and  Timothy,  and  still 
the  silence  deepened,  until  the  two  young  giants 
themselves  perceived  that  it  was  time  to  look  up 
and  take  account  of  stock. 

The  perspiration  by  this  time  was  rolling  down 
the  back  of  Bud's  neck.  He  was  about  the  only  one 
in  the  room  who  was  not  on  a  broad  grin,  and  he 
was  wretched.  What  a  fearful  mistake  the  new 
teacher  was  making  right  at  the  start!  She  was 
antagonizing  the  two  boys  who  held  the  whole  school 
in  their  hands.  There  was  no  telling  what  they 
wouldn't  do  to  her  now.  And  he  would  have  to 
stand  up  for  her.  Yes,  no  matter  what  they  did, 
he  would  stand  up  for  her!  Even  though  he  lost  his 
best  friends,  he  must  be  loyal  to  her;  but  the  strain 
was  terrible!  He  did  not  dare  to  look  at  them,  but 
fastened  his  eyes  upon  Margaret,  as  if  keeping  them 
glued  there  was  his  only  hope.  Then  suddenly  he 
saw  her  face  break  into  one  of  the  sweetest,  merriest 
smiles  he  ever  witnessed,  with  not  one  single  hint 
of  reproach  or  offended  dignity  in  it,  just  a  smile  of 
comradeship,  understanding,  and  pleasure  in  the 
meeting;  and  it  was  directed  to  the  two  seats  where' 
Jed  and  Timothy  sat. 

With  wonder  he  turned  toward  the  two  big  boys, 
and  saw,  to  his  amazement,  an  answering  smile  upon 
their  faces;  reluctant,  'tis  true,  half  sheepish  at  first, 
but  a  smile  with  lifted  eyebrows  of  astonishment  and 
real  enjoyment  of  the  joke. 

A  little  ripple  of  approval  went  round  in  half- 
breathed  syllables,  but  Margaret  gave  no  time  for 
any  restlessness  to  start.  She  spoke  at  once,  hi  her 

114 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

pleasantest  partnership  tone,  such  as  she  had  used  to 
Bud  when  she  asked  him  to  help  her  build  her  book* 
case.  So  she  spoke  now  to  that  school,  and  each 
one  felt  she  was  speaking  just  to  him  especially,  and 
felt  a  leaping  response  in  his  soul.  Here,  at  least, 
was  something  new  and  interesting,  a  new  kind  of 
teacher.  They  kept  silence  to  listen. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  make  a  speech  now,"  she 
said,  and  her  voice  sounded  glad  to  them  all.  "I'll 
wait  till  we  know  one  another  before  I  do  that.  I 
just  want  to  say  how  do  you  do  to  you,  and  tell  you 
how  glad  I  am  to  be  here.  I  hope  we  shall  like  one 
another  immensely  and  have  a  great  many  good  times 
together.  But  we've  got  to  get  acquainted  first,  of 
course,  and  perhaps  we'd  better  give  most  of  the 
time  to  that  to-day.  First,  suppose  we  sing  some- 
thing. What  shall  it  be?  What  do  you  sing?" 

Little  Susan  Johnson,  by  virtue  of  having  seen  the 
teacher  at  Sunday-school,  made  bold  to  raise  her 
hand  and  suggest,  "Thar*thpangle  Banner,  pleath!" 
And  so  they  tried  it;  but  when  Margaret  found  that 
only  a  few  seemed  to  know  the  words,  she  said, 
"Wait!"  Lifting  her  arm  with  a  pretty,  imperative 
gesture,  and  taking  a  piece  of  chalk  from  the  box 
on  her  desk,  she  went  to  the  new  blackboard  that 
stretched  its  shining  black  length  around  the  room. 
,  The  school  was  breathlessly  watching  the  graceful 
movement  of  the  beautiful  hand  and  arm  over  the 
smooth  surface,  leaving  behind  it  the  clear,  perfect 
script.  Such  wonderful  writing  they  had  never  seen; 
such  perfect,  easy  curves  and  twirls.  Every  eye  in 
the  room  was  fastened  on  her,  every  breath  was  held 
as  they  watched  and  spelled  out  the  words  one  by  one. 

115 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

"Gee!"  said  Bud,  softly,  under  his  breath,  nor 
knew  that  he  had  spoken,  but  no  one  else  moved. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "let  us  sing,"  and  when  they 
started  off  again  Margaret's  strong,  clear  soprano 
leading,  every  voice  in  the  room  growled  out  the 
words  and  tried  to  get  in  step  with  the  tune. 

They  had  gone  thus  through  two  verses  when  Jed 
seemed  to  think  it  was  about  time  to  start  something. 
Things  were  going  altogether  too  smoothly  for  an 
untried  teacher,  if  she  was  handsome  and  unabashed. 
If  they  went  on  like  this  the  scholars  would  lose  all 
respect  for  him.  So,  being  quite  able  to  sing  a  clear 
tenor,  he  nevertheless  puckered  his  lips  impertinent- 
ly, drew  his  brows  in  an  ominous  frown,  and  began 
to  whistle  a  somewhat  erratic  accompaniment  to  the 
song.  He  watched  the  teacher  closely,  expecting  to 
see  the  color  flame  in  her  cheeks,  the  anger  flash  in 
her  eyes;  he  had  tried  this  trick  on  other  teachers 
and  it  always  worked.  He  gave  the  wink  to  Timothy, 
and  he  too  left  off  his  glorious  bass  and  began  to 
whistle. 

But  instead  of  the  anger  and  annoyance  they  ex- 
pected, Margaret  turned  appreciative  eyes  toward 
the  two  back  seats,  nodding  her  head  a  trifle  and 
smiling  with  her  eyes  as  she  sang;  and  when  the 
verse  was  done  she  held  up  her  hand  for  silence  and 
said: 

"Why,  boys,  that's  beautiful!  Let's  try  that 
verse  once  more,  and  you  two  whistle  the  accom- 
paniment a  little  stronger  in  the  chorus;  or  how 
would  it  do  if  you  just  came  in  on  the  chorus?  I 
believe  that  would  be  more  effective.  Let's  try  the 
first  verse  &at  way;  you  boys  sing  during  the  verse 

116 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

and  then  whistle  the  chorus  just  as  you  did  now. 
We  really  need  your  voices  in  the  verse  part,  they 
are  so  strong  and  splendid.  Let's  try  it  now/' 
And  she  started  off  again,  the  two  big  astonisaed 
fellows  meekly  doing  as  they  were  told,  and  really 
the  effect  was  beautiful.  What  was  their  surprise 
when  the  whole  song  was  finished  to  have  her 
say,  "Now  everybody  whistle  the  chorus  softly," 
and  then  pucker  up  her  own  soft  lips  to  join  in. 
That  completely  finished  the  whistling  stunt.  Jed 
realized  that  it  would  never  work  again,  not  while 
she  was  here,  for  she  had  turned  the  joke  into  beauty 
and  made  them  all  enjoy  it.  It  hadn't  annoyed  her 
in  the  least. 

Somehow  by  that  time  they  were  all  ready  for 
anything  she  had  to  suggest,  and  they  watched  again 
breathlessly  as  she  wrote  another  song  on  the  black- 
board, taking  the  other  side  of  the  room  for  it,  and 
this  time  a  hymn — "I  Need  Thee  Every  Hour." 

When  they  began  to  sing  it,  however,  Margaret 
found  the  tune  went  slowly,  uncertainly. 

"Oh,  how  we  need  a  piano!"  she  exclaimed.  "I 
wonder  if  we  can't  get  up  an  entertainment  and 
raise  money  to  buy  one.  How  many  will  help?" 

Every  hand  in  the  place  went  up,  Jed's  and 
Timothy's  last  and  only  a  little  way,  but  she  noted 
with  triumph  that  they  went  up. 

"All  right;  we'll  do  it!  Now  let's  sing  that  verse 
correctly."  And  she  began  to  sing  again,  while 
they  all  joined  anxiously  in,  really  trying  to  do  their 
best. 

The  instant  the  last  verse  died  away,  Margaret's 
voice  took  their  attention. 

117 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

"Two  years  ago  in  Boston  two  young  men,  who 
belonged  to  a  little  group  of  Christian  workers  who 
were  going  around  from  place  to  place  holding  meet- 
ings, sat  talking  together  hi  their  room  hi  the  hotel 
one  evening." 

There  was  instant  quiet,  a  kind  of  a  breathless 
quiet.  This  was  not  like  the  beginning  of  any 
lesson  any  other  teacher  had  ever  given  them. 
Every  eye  was  fixed  on  her. 

"They  had  been  talking  over  the  work  of  the 
day,  and  finally  one  of  them  suggested  that  they 
choose  a  Bible  verse  for  the  whole  year — " 

There  was  a  movement  of  impatience  from  one 
back  seat,  as  if  Jed  had  scented  an  incipient  sermon, 
but  the  teacher's  voice  went  steadily  on: 

"They  talked  it  over,  and  at  last  they  settled  on 
II  Timothy  ii:15.  They  made  up  their  minds  to 
use  it  on  every  possible  occasion.  It  was  tune  to 
go  to  bed,  so  the  man  whose  room  adjoined  got  up 
and,  instead  of  saying  good  night,  he  said,  'Well, 
II  Timothy  ii:15/  and  went  to  his  room.  Pretty 
soon,  when  he  put  out  his  light,  he  knocked  on  the 
wall  and  shouted  l  II  Timothy  ii:15/  and  the  other 
man  responded,  heartily,  '  All  right,  II  Timothy 
ii:15.'  The  next  morning  when  they  wrote  their 
letters  each  of  them  wrote  'II  Timothy  ii:157  on 
the  lower  left-hand  corner  of  the  envelope,  and 
sent  out  a  great  handful  of  letters  to  all  parts  of 
the  world.  Those  letters  passed  through  the  Bos- 
ton post-office,  and  some  of  the  clerks  who  sorted 
them  saw  that  queer  legend  written  down  in  the 
lower  left-hand  corner  of  the  envelope,  and  they 
wondered  at  it,  and  one  or  two  wrote  it  down,  to 

118 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

look  it  up  afterward.  The  letters  reached  other 
cities  and  were  put  into  the  hands  of  mail-carriers 
to  distribute,  and  they  saw  the  queer  little  sentence. 
*II  Timothy  ii:15/  and  they  wondered,  and  some 
of  them  looked  it  up." 

By  this  time  the  entire  attention  of  the  school 
was  upon  the  story,  for  they  perceived  that  it  was 
a  story. 

"The  men  left  Boston  and  went  across  the  ocean 
to  hold  meetings  in  other  cities,  and  one  day  at  $ 
little  railway  station  in  Europe  a  group  of  people 
were  gathered,  waiting  for  a  train,  and  those  two 
men  were  among  them.  Pretty  soon  the  train 
came,  and  one  of  the  men  got  on  the  back  end  of 
the  last  car,  while  the  other  stayed  on  the  platform, 
and  as  the  train  moved  off  the  man  on  the  last  car 
took  off  his  hat  and  said,  in  a  good,  loud,  clear  tone, 
'Well,  take  care  of  yourself,  II  Timothy  ii:15/  and 
the  other  one  smiled  and  waved  his  hat  and  an- 
swered, 'Yes,  II  Timothy  ii:15.'  The  man  on  the 
train,  which  was  moving  fast  now,  shouted  back, 
'II  Timothy  ii:15/  and  the  man  on  the  platform 
responded  still  louder,  waving  his  hat,  '  II  Timothy 
ii:15,'  and  back  and  forth  the  queer  sentence  was 
flung  until  the  train  was  too  far  away  for  them  to 
hear  each  other's  voices.  In  the  mean  time  all  the 
people  on  the  platform  had  been  standing  there 
listening  and  wondering  what  in  the  world  such  a 
strange  salutation  could  mean.  Some  of  them  recog- 
nized what  it  was,  but  many  did  not  know,  and  yet 
the  sentence  was  said  over  so  many  times  that  they 
could  not  help  remembering  it;  and  some  went 
away  to  re«all  it  and  ask  their  friends  what  it  meant* 

119 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

A  young  man  from  America  was  on  that  platform 
and  heard  it,  and  he  knew  it  stood  for  a  passage  in 
the  Bible,  and  his  curiosity  was  so  great  that  he 
went  back  to  his  boarding-house  and  hunted  up  the 
Bible  his  mother  had  packed  in  his  trunk  when  he 
came  away  from  home,  and  he  hunted  through  the 
Bible  until  he  found  the  place,  'II  Timothy  ii:15/ 
and  read  it;  and  it  made  him  think  about  his  life 
and  decide  that  he  wasn't  doing  as  he  ought  to  do. 
I  can't  tell  you  all  the  story  about  that  queer  Bible 
verse,  how  it  went  here  and  there  and  what  a  great 
work  it  did  in  people's  hearts;  but  one  day  those 
Christian  workers  went  to  Australia  to  hold  some 
meetings,  and  one  night,  when  the  great  auditorium 
was  crowded,  a  man  who  was  leading  the  meet- 
ing got  up  and  told  the  story  of  this  verse,  how  it 
had  been  chosen,  and  how  it  had  gone  over  the 
world  in  strange  ways,  even  told  about  the  morning 
at  the  little  railway  station  when  the  two  men  said 
good-by.  Just  as  he  got  to  that  place  in  his  story 
a  man  in  the  audience  stood  up  and  said:  { Brother, 
just  let  me  say  a  word,  please.  I  never  knew  any- 
thing about  all  this  before,  but  I  was  at  that  rail- 
way station,  and  I  heard  those  two  men  shout  that 
strange  good-by,  and  I  went  home  and  read  that 
verse,  and  it's  made  a  great  difference  in  my  life.' 

"  There  was  a  great  deal  more  to  the  story,  how 
some  Chicago  policemen  got  to  be  good  men  through 
reading  that  verse,  and  how  the  story  of  the  Aus- 
tralia meetings  was  printed  in  an  Australian  paper 
and  sent  to  a  lady  in  America  who  sent  it  to  a  friend 
in  England  to  read  about  the  meetings.  And  this 

friend  in  England  had  a  son  in  the  army  in  India, 

120 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

to  whom  she  was  sending  a  package,  and  she  wrapped 
it  around  something  in  that  package,  and  the  young 
man  read  all  about  it,  and  it  helped  to  change  his 
life.  Well,  I  thought  of  that  story  this  morning 
when  I  was  trying  to  decide  what  to  read  for  our 
opening  chapter,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps 
you  would  be  interested  to  take  that  verse  for  our 
school  verse  this  term,  and  so  if  you  would  like  it 
I  will  put  it  on  the  blackboard.  Would  you  like  it, 
I  wonder?" 

She  paused  wistfully,  as  if  she  expected  an  answer, 
and  there  was  a  low,  almost  inaudible  growl  of  as- 
sent; a  keen  listener  might  almost  have  said  it  had 
an  impatient  quality  in  it,  as  if  they  were  in  a  hurry 
to  find  out  what  the  verse  was  that  had  made  such 
a  stir  in  the  world. 

"Very  well,"  said  Margaret,  turning  to  the  board; 
"then  I'll  put  it  where  we  all  can  see  it,  and  while 

I  write  it  will  you  please  say  over  where  it  is,  so 
that  you  will  remember  it  and  hunt  it  up  for  your- 
selves in  your  Bibles  at  home?" 

There  was  a  sort  of  snicker  at  that,  for  there  were 
probably  not  half  a  dozen  Bibles,  if  there  were  so 
many,  represented  in  that  school;  but  they  took  her 
hint  as  she  wrote,  and  chanted,  "II  Timothy  ii:15, 

II  Timothy  ii:15,"  and  then  spelled  out  after  her 
rapid    crayon,  "Study  to   show  thyself   approved 
unto  God,   a  workman   that  needeth   not   to   be 
ashamed." 

They  read  it  together  at  her  bidding,  with  a  won- 
dering, half-serious  look  in  their  faces,  and  then  she 
•aid,  "Now,  shall  we  pray?" 

The  former  teacher  had  not  opened  her  school 

121 


A    VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

with  prayer.  It  had  never  been  even  suggested  in 
that  school.  It  might  have  been  a  dangerous  experi- 
ment if  Margaret  had  attempted  it  sooner  hi  her 
program.  As  it  was,  there  was  a  shuffling  of 
feet  in  the  back  seats  at  her  first  word;  but  the  room 
grew  quiet  again,  perhaps  out  of  curiosity  to  hear  a 
woman's  voice  in  prayer: 

"Our  Heavenly  Father,  we  want  to  ask  Thee  to 
bless  us  in  our  work  together,  and  to  help  us  to  be 
such  workmen  that  we  shall  not  need  to  be  ashamed 
to  show  our  work  to  Thee  at  the  close  of  the  day. 
For  Christ's  sake  we  ask  it.  Amen." 

They  did  not  have  time  to  resent  that  prayer 
before  she  had  them  interested  in  something  else. 
In  fact,  she  had  planned  her  whole  first  day  out 
so  that  there  should  not  be  a  minute  for  misbe- 
havior. She  had  argued  that  if  she  could  just  get 
time  to  become  acquainted  with  them  she  might 
prevent  a  lot  of  trouble  before  it  ever  started.  Her 
first  business  was  to  win  her  scholars.  After  that 
she  could  teach  them  easily  if  they  were  once  willing 
to  learn. 

She  had  a  set  of  mental  arithmetic  problems  ready 
which  she  propounded  to  them  next,  some  of  them 
difficult  and  some  easy  enough  for  the  youngest  child 
who  could  think,  and  she  timed  their  answers  and 
wrote  on  the  board  the  names  of  those  who  raised 
their  hands  first  and  had  the  correct  answers.  The 
questions  were  put  in  a  fascinating  way,  many  of 
them  having  curious  little  catches  in  them  for  the 
scholars  who  were  not  on  the  alert,  and  Timothy 
presently  discovered  this  and  set  himself  to  get 
every  one,  coming  off  victorious  at  the  end.  Even 

122 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

Jed  roused  himself  and  was  interested,  and  some  of 
the  girls  quite  distinguished  themselves. 

When  a  half-hour  of  this  was  over  she  put  the 
word  " TRANSFIGURATION"  on  the  blackboard, and  set 
them  to  playing  a  regular  game  out  of  it.  If  some 
of  the  school-board  had  come  in  just  then  they 
might  have  lifted  up  hands  of  horror  at  the  idea  of 
the  new  teacher  setting  the  whole  school  to  playing 
a  game.  But  they  certainly  would  have  been  de- 
lightfully surprised  to  see  a  quiet  and  orderly  room 
with  bent  heads  and  knit  brows,  all  intent  upon 
papers  and  pencils.  Never  before  in  the  annals  of 
that  school  had  the  first  day  held  a  full  period  of 
quiet  or  orderliness.  It  was  expected  to  be  a  day  of 
battle;  a  day  of  trying  out  the  soul  of  the  teacher 
and  proving  whether  he  or  she  were  worthy  to  cope 
with  the  active  minds  and  bodies  of  the  young 
bullies  of  Ashland.  But  the  expected  battle  had 
been  forgotten.  Every  mind  was  busy  with  the 
matter  in  hand. 

Margaret  had  given  them  three  minutes  to  write 
as  many  words  as  they  could  think  of,  of  three  let- 
ters or  more,  beginning  with  T,  and  using  only  the 
letters  in  the  word  she  had  put  on  the  board.  When 
time  was  called  there  was  a  breathless  rush  to  write 
a  last  word,  and  then  each  scholar  had  to  tell  how 
many  words  he  had,  and  each  was  called  upon  to 
read  his  list.  Some  had  only  two  or  three,  some 
had  ten  or  eleven.  They  were  allowed  to  mark 
their  words,  counting  one  for  each  person  present 
who  did  not  have  that  word  and  doubling  if  it  were 
two  syllables,  and  so  on.  Excitement  ran  high 
when  it  was  discovered  that  some  had  actually  made 

123 


A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

a  count  of  thirty  or  forty,  and  when  they  started 
writing  words  beginning  with  R  every  head  was 
bent  intently  from  the  minute  time  was  started. 

Never  had  three  minutes  seemed  so  short  to  those 
unused  brains,  and  Jed  yelled  out:  "Aw,  gee!  I 
only  got  three!"  when  tune  was  called  next. 

It  was  recess-time  when  they  finally  finished  every 
letter  in  that  word,  and,  adding  all  up,  found  that 
Timothy  had  won  the  game.  Was  that  school? 
Why,  a  barbecue  couldn't  be  named  beside  it  for 
fun!  They  rushed  out  to  the  school-yard  with  a 
shout,  and  the  boys  played  leap-frog  loudly  for  the 
first  few  minutes.  Margaret,  leaning  her  tired  head 
in  her  hands,  elbows  on  the  window-seat,  closing  her 
eyes  and  gathering  strength  for  the  after-recess 
session,  heard  one  boy  say:  "Wai,  how  d'ye  like 
'er?"  And  the  answer  came:  "Gee!  I  didn't  think 
she'd  be  that  kind  of  a  guy!  I  thought  she'd  be 
some  stiff  old  Ike!  Ain't  she  a  peach,  though?" 
She  lifted  up  her  head  and  laughed  triumphantly  to 
herself,  her  eyes  alight,  herself  now  strengthened  for 
the  fray.  She  wasn't  wholly  failing,  then? 

After  recess  there  was  a  spelling-match,  choosing 
sides,  of  course,  "Because  this  is  only  the  first  day, 
and  we  must  get  acquainted  before  we  can  do  real 
work,  you  know,"  she  explained. 

The  spelling-match  proved  an  exciting  affair  also, 
with  new  features  that  Ashland  had  never  seen  be- 
fore. Here  the  girls  began  to  shine  into  prominence, 
but  there  were  very  few  good  spellers,  and  they  were 
presently  reduced  to  two  girls — Rosa  Rogers,  the 
beauty  of  the  school,  and  Amanda  Bounds,  a  stolid, 
homely  girl  with  deep  eyes  and  a  broad  brow. 

124 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"I'm  going  to  give  this  as  a  prize  to  the  one  who 
stands  up  the  longest,"  said  Margaret,  with  sudden 
inspiration  as  she  saw  the  boys  in  their  seats  getting 
restless;  and  she  unpinned  a  tiny  blue -silk  bow 
that  fastened  her  white  collar. 

The  girls  all  said  "Oh-h-h!"  and  immediately  every 
one  in  the  room  straightened  up.  The  next  few 
jninutes  those  two  girls  spelled  for  dear  life,  each  with 
her  eye  fixed  upon  the  tiny  blue  bow  in  the  teacher's 
white  hands.  To  own  that  bow,  that  wonderful, 
strange  bow  of  the  heavenly  blue,  with  the  graceful 
twist  to  the  tie!  What  delight!  The  girl  who  won 
that  would  be  the  admired  of  all  the  school.  Even 
the  boys  sat  up  and  took  notice,  each  secretly  think- 
ing that  Rosa,  the  beauty,  would  get  it,  of  course. 

But  she  didn't;  she  slipped  up  on  the  word  " re- 
ceive," after  all,  putting  the  i  before  the  e;  and  her 
stolid  companion,  catching  her  breath  awesomely, 
slowly  spelled  it  right  and  received  the  blue  prize, 
pinned  gracefully  at  the  throat  of  her  old  brown 
gingham  by  the  teacher's  own  soft,  white  fingers, 
while  the  school  looked  on  admiringly  and  the  blood 
rolled  hotly  up  the  back  of  her  neck  and  spread  over 
her  face  and  forehead.  Rosa,  the  beauty,  went  crest- 
fallen to  her  seat. 

It  was  at  noon,  while  they  ate  their  lunch,  that 
Margaret  tried  to  get  acquainted  with  the  girls, 
calling  most  of  them  by  name,  to  their  great  surprise, 
and  hinting  of  delightful  possibilities  in  the  winter's 
work.  Then  she  slipped  out  among  the  boys  and 
watched  their  sports,  laughing  and  applauding  when 
some  one  made  a  particularly  fine  play,  as  if  she 

thoroughly  understood  and  appreciated. 
9  125 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

She  managed  to  stand  near  Jed  and  Timothy  just 
before  Bud  rang  the  bell.  "I've  heard  you  are  great 
sportsmen,"  she  said  to  them,  confidingly.  "And 
I've  been  wondering  if  you'll  teach  me  some  things 
I  want  to  learn?  I  want  to  know  how  to  ride  and 
shoot.  Do  you  suppose  I  could  learn?" 

"Sure!"  they  chorused,  eagerly,  their  embarrass- 
ment forgotten.  "Sure,  you  could  learn  fine!  Sure, 
we'll  learn  you!" 

And  then  the  bell  rang  and  they  all  went  in. 

The  afternoon  was  a  rather  informal  arrangement 
of  classes  and  schedule  for  the  next  day,  Margaret 
giving  out  slips  of  paper  with  questions  for  each  to 
answer,  that  she  might  find  out  just  where  to  place 
them;  and  while  they  wrote  she  went  from  one  to 
another,  getting  acquainted,  advising,  and  suggest- 
ing about  what  they  wanted  to  study.  It  was  all 
so  new  and  wonderful  to  them!  They  had  not  been 
used  to  caring  what  they  were  to  study.  Now  it  al- 
most seemed  interesting. 

But  when  the  day  was  done,  the  school-house 
locked,  and  Bud  and  Margaret  started  for  home,  she 
realized  that  she  was  weary.  Yet  it  was  a  weariness 
of  success  and  not  of  failure,  and  she  felt  happy  in 
looking  forward  to  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

'""PHE  minister  had  decided  to  preach  in  Ashland, 
A  and  on  the  following  Sabbath.  It  became  ap- 
parent that  if  he  wished  to  have  any  notice  at  all 
from  the  haughty  new  teacher  he  must  do  something 
at  once  to  establish  his  superiority  in  her  eyes.  He 
had  carefully  gone  over  his  store  of  sermons  that  he 
always  carried  with  him,  and  decided  to  preach  on 
"The  Dynamics  of  Altruism." 

Notices  had  been  posted  up  in  saloons  and  stores 
and  post-office.  He  had  made  them  himself  after 
completely  tabooing  Mr.  Tanner's  kindly  and 
blundering  attempt,  and  they  gave  full  information 
concerning  "the  Rev.  Frederick  West,  Ph.D.,  of  the 
vicinity  of  New  York  City,  who  had  kindly  con- 
sented to  preach  hi  the  school-house  on  "The 
Dynamics  of  Altruism/' 

Several  of  these  elaborately  printed  announce- 
ments had  been  posted  up  on  big  trees  along  the 
trails,  and  in  other  conspicuous  places,  and  there 
was  no  doubt  but  that  the  coming  Sabbath  services 
were  more  talked  of  than  anything  else  hi  that  neigh- 
borhood for  miles  around,  except  the  new  teacher 
and  her  extraordinary  way  of  making  all  the  scholars 
fall  in  love  with  her.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the 
Reverend  Frederick  might  not  have  been  so  flattered 

127 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

at  the  size  of  his  audience  when  the  day  came  if  he 
could  have  known  how  many  of  them  came  prin- 
cipally because  they  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
opportunity  to  see  the  new  teacher. 

However,  the  announcements  were  read,  and  the 
preacher  became  an  object  of  deep  interest  to  the 
community  when  he  went  abroad.  Under  this  at- 
tention he  swelled,  grew  pleased,  bland,  and  con- 
descending, wearing  an  oily  smile  and  bowing  most 
conceitedly  whenever  anybody  noticed  him.  He 
even  began  to  drop  his  severity  and  silence  at  the 
table,  toward  the  end  of  the  week,  and  expanded 
into  dignified  conversation,  mainly  addressed  to  Mr. 
Tanner  about  the  political  situation  in  the  State  of 
Arizona.  He  was  trying  to  impress  the  teacher  with 
the  fact  that  he  looked  upon  her  as  a  most  insignifi- 
cant mortal  who  had  forfeited  her  right  to  his  smiles 
by  her  headstrong  and  unseemly  conduct  when  he 
had  warned  her  about  "that  young  ruffian." 

Out  on  the  trail  Long  Bill  and  Jasper  Kemp 
paused  before  a  tree  that  bore  the  Reverend  Freder- 
ick7 s  church  notice,  and  read  in  silence  while  the 
wide  wonder  of  the  desert  spread  about  them. 

"What  d'ye  make  out  o'  them  cuss  words,  Jap?" 
asked  Long  Bill,  at  length.  "D'ye  figger  the  par- 
son's goin'  to  preach  on  swearin'  ur  gunpowder?" 

"Blowed  ef  I  know,"  answered  Jasper,  eying  the 
sign  ungraciously;  "but  by  the  looks  of  him  he 
can't  say  much  to  suit  me  on  neither  one.  He  re- 
sembles a  yaller  cactus  bloom  out  in  a  rain-storm 
as  to  head,  an'  his  smile  is  like  some  of  them  prickles 
on  the  plant.  He  can't  be  no  l sky-pilot'  to  me, 
not  just  yet." 

128 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"You  don't  allow  he  belongs  in  any  way  to  her?" 
asked  Long  Bill,  anxiously,  after  they  had  been  on 
their  way  for  a  half -hour. 

"B'long  to  her?    Meanin'  the  schoolmarm?" 

"Yes;  he  ain't  sweet  on  her  nor  nothin'?" 

"Wai,  I  guess  not,"  said  Jasper,  contentedly. 
"She's  got  eyes  sharp's  a  needle.  You  don't  size 
her  up  so  small  she's  goin'  to  take  to  a  sickly  parson 
with  yaller  hair  an'  sleek  ways  when  she's  seen  the 
Kid,  do  you?" 

"Wai,  no,  it  don't  seem  noways  reasonable,  but 
you  never  can  tell.  Women  gets  notions." 

"She  ain't  that  kind!  You  mark  my  words,  she 
ain't  that  kind.  I'd  lay  she'd  punch  the  breeze  like 
a  coyote  ef  he'd  make  up  to  her.  Just  you  wait  till 
you  see  him.  He's  the  most  no-'count,  measleyest 
little  thing  that  ever  called  himself  a  man.  My 
word!  I'd  like  to  see  him  try  to  ride  that  colt  o' 
mine.  I  really  would.  It  would  be  some  sight  for 
sore  eyes,  it  sure  would." 

"Mebbe  he's  got  a  intellec',"  suggested  Long  Bill, 
after  another  mile.  "That  goes  a  long  ways  with 
women-folks  with  a  education." 

"No  chance!"  said  Jasper,  confidently.  "'Ain't 
got  room  fer  one  under  his  yaller  thatch.  You  wait 
till  you  set  your  lamps  on  him  once  before  you  go 
to  gettin'  excited.  Why,  he  ain't  one-two-three  with 
our  missionary!  Gosh!  I  wish  he'd  come  back  an' 
see  to  such  goin's-on — I  certainly  do." 

"Was  you  figgerin'  to  go  to  that  gatherin'  Sunday?" 

"I  sure  was,"  said  Jasper.  "I  want  to  see  the 
show,  an',  besides,  we  might  be  needed  ef  things  got 
too  high-soundin'.  It  ain't  good  to  have  a  creature 

129 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

at  large  that  thinks  he  knows  all  there  is  to  know. 
I  heard  him  talk  down  to  the  post-office  the  day  after 
that  little  party  we  had  when  the  Kid  shot  out  the 
lights  to  save  Bunchy  from  killin'  Crapster,  an'  it's 
my  opinion  he  needs  a  good  spankin' ;  but  I'm  agoin' 
to  give  him  a  fair  show.  I  ain't  much  on  religion 
myself,  but  I  do  like  to  see  a  square  deal,  especially 
in  a  parson.  I've  sized  it  up  he  needs  a  lesson." 

"I'm  with  ye,  Jap,"  said  Long  Bill,  and  the  two 
rode  on  their  way  in  silence. 

Margaret  was  so  busy  and  so  happy  with  her 
school  all  the  week  that  she  quite  forgot  her  annoy- 
ance at  the  minister.  She  really  saw  very  little  of 
him,  for  he  was  always  late  to  breakfast,  and  she 
took  hers  early.  She  went  to  her  room  immediately 
after  supper,  and  he  had  little  opportunity  for  pur- 
suing her  acquaintance.  Perhaps  he  judged  that  it 
would  be  wise  to  let  her  alone  until  after  he  had 
made  his  grand  impression  on  Sunday,  and  let  her 
"make  up"  to  him. 

It  was  not  until  Sunday  morning  that  she  sud- 
denly recalled  that  he  was  to  preach  that  day. 
She  had  indeed  seen  the  notices,  for  a  very  large  and 
elaborate  one  was  posted  in  front  of  the  school-house, 
and  some  anonymous  artist  had  produced  a  fine 
caricature  of  the  preacher  in  red  clay  underneath  his 
name.  Margaret  had  been  obliged  to  remain  after 
school  Friday  and  remove  as  much  of  this  portrait 
as  she  was  able,  not  having  been  willing  to  make 
it  a  matter  of  discipline  to  discover  the  artist.  In 
fact,  it  was  so  true  to  the  model  that  the  young 
teacher  felt  a  growing  sympathy  for  the  one  who  had 
perpetrated  it. 

130 


A   VOICE   IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Margaret  started  to  the  school-house  early  Sunday 
morning,  attended  by  the  faithful  Bud.  Not  that 
he  had  any  more  intention  of  going  to  Sunday-school 
than  he  had  the  week  before,  but  it  was  pleasant  to 
be  the  chosen  escort  of  so  popular  a  teacher.  Even 
Jed  and  Timothy  had  walked  home  with  her  twice 
during  the  week.  He  did  not  intend  to  lose  his  place 
as  nearest  to  her.  There  was  only  one  to  whom  he 
would  surrender  that,  and  he  was  too  far  away  to 
claim  it  often. 

Margaret  had  promised  to  help  in  the  Sunday- 
school  that  morning,  for  the  woman  who  taught  the 
little  ones  was  still  away  with  her  sick  neighbor,  and 
on  the  way  she  persuaded  Bud  to  help  her. 

"You'll  be  secretary  for  me,  won't  you,  William?"* 
she  asked,  brightly.  "I'm  going  to  take  the  left- 
front  corner  of  the  room  for  the  children,  and  seat 
them  on  the  recitation-benches,  and  that  will  leave 
all  the  back  part  of  the  room  for  the  older  people. 
Then  I  can  use  the  blackboard  and  not  disturb  the 
rest." 

"Secretary?"  asked  the  astonished  Bud.  He  was, 
so  to  speak,  growing  accustomed  to  surprises. 
"Secretary"  did  not  sound  like  being  "a  nice  little 
Sunday-school  boy." 

"Why,  yes!  take  up  the  collection,  and  see  who 
is  absent,  and  so  on.  I  don't  know  all  the  names, 
perhaps,  and,  anyhow,  I  don't  like  to  do  that  when 
I  have  to  teach!" 

Artful  Margaret!  She  had  no  mind  to  leave  Bud 
floating  around  outside  the  school-house,  and  though 
she  had  ostensibly  prepared  her  lesson  and  her  black- 
board illustration  for  the  little  children,  she  had 

131 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

hidden  in  it  a  truth  for  Bud — poor,  neglected,  de- 
voted Bud! 

The  inefficient  old  man  who  taught  the  older 
people  that  day  gathered  his  forces  together  and, 
seated  with  his  back  to  the  platform,  his  spectacles 
extended  upon  his  long  nose,  he  proceeded  with  the 
questions  on  the  lesson-leaf,  as  usual,  being  more  than 
ordinarily  unfamiliar  with  them;  but  before  he  was 
half  through  he  perceived  by  the  long  pauses  between 
the  questions  and  answers  that  he  did  not  have  the 
attention  of  his  class.  He  turned  slowly  around  to 
see  what  they  were  all  looking  at,  and  became  so 
engaged  in  listening  to  the  lesson  the  new  teacher 
was  drawing  on  the  blackboard  that  he  completely 
forgot  to  go  on,  until  Bud,  very  important  in  his 
new  position,  rang  the  tiny  desk-bell  for  the  close 
of  school,  and  Margaret,  looking  up,  saw  in  dismay 
that  she  had  been  teaching  the  whole  school. 

While  they  were  singing  a  closing  hymn  the  room 
began  to  fill  up,  and  presently  came  the  minister, 
walking  importantly  beside  Mr.  Tanner,  his  chin 
flattened  upward  as  usual,  but  bent  in  till  it  made  a 
double  roll  over  his  collar,  his  eyes  rolling  important- 
ly, showing  much  of  their  whites,  his  sermon,  in  an 
elaborate  leather  cover,  carried  conspicuously  under 
his  arm,  and  the  severest  of  clerical  coats  and  collars 
setting  out  his  insignificant  face. 

Walking  behind  him  in  single  file,  measured  step, 
just  so  far  apart,  came  the  eight  men  from  the  bunk- 
house — Long  Bill,  Big  Jim,  Fiddling  Boss,  Jasper 
Kemp,  Fade-away  Forbes,  Stocky,  Croaker,  and 
Fudge;  and  behind  them,  looking  like  a  scared  rabbit, 
Mom  Wallis  scuttled  into  the  back  seat  and  sank  out 

132 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

of  sight.  The  eight  men,  however,  ranged  themselves 
across  the  front  of  the  room  on  the  recitation-bench, 
directly  in  front  of  the  platform,  removing  a  few 
small  children  for  that  purpose. 

They  had  been  lined  up  in  a  scowling  row  along 
the  path  as  the  minister  entered,  looking  at  them 
askance  under  his  aristocratic  yellow  eyebrows,  and 
as  he  neared  the  door  the  last  man  followed  in  his 
wake,  then  the  next,  and  so  on. 

Margaret,  in  her  seat  half-way  back  at  the  side 
of  the  school-house  near  a  window,  saw  through  the 
trees  a  wide  sombrero  over  a  pair  of  broad  shoulders; 
but,  though  she  kept  close  watch,  she  did  not  see  her 
friend  of  the  wilderness  enter  the  school-house.  If 
he  had  really  come  to  meeting,  he  was  staying  out- 
side. 

The  minister  was  rather  nonplussed  at  first  that 
there  were  no  hymn-books.  It  almost  seemed  that 
he  did  not  know  how  to  go  on  with  divine  service 
without  hymn-books,  but  at  last  he  compromised 
on  the  long-meter  Doxology,  pronounced  with  delib- 
erate unction.  Then,  looking  about  for  a  possible 
pipe-organ  and  choir,  he  finally  started  it  himself; 
but  it  is  doubtful  whether  any  one  would  have 
recognized  the  tune  enough  to  help  it  on  if  Mar- 
garet had  not  for  very  shame's  sake  taken  it  up  and 
carried  it  along,  and  so  they  came  to  the  prayer 
and  Bible-reading. 

These  were  performed  with  a  formal,  perfunctory 
style  calculated  to  impress  the  audience  with  the 
importance  of  the  preacher  rather  than  the  words 
he  was  speaking.  The  audience  was  very  quiet, 
having  the  air  of  reserving  judgment  for  the  sermon. 

133 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

Margaret  could  not  just  remember  afterward  how 
it  was  she  missed  the  text.  She  had  turned  her  eyes 
away  from  the  minister,  because  it  somehow  made 
her  feel  homesick  to  compare  him  with  her  dear, 
dignified  father.  Her  mind  had  wandered,  perhaps, 
to  the  sombrero  she  had  glimpsed  outside,  and  she 
was  wondering  how  its  owner  was  coming  on  with 
his  resolves,  and  just  what  change  they  would  mean 
in  his  life,  anyway.  Then  suddenly  she  awoke  to  the 
fact  that  the  sermon  had  begun. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"/CONSIDERED  in  the  world  of  physics,"  be- 

^^  gan  the  lordly  tones  of  the  Reverend  Fred- 
erick, "  dynamics  is  that  branch  of  mechanics  that 
treats  of  the  effects  of  forces  in  producing  motion, 
and  of  the  laws  of  motion  thus  produced;  sometimes 
called  kinetics,  opposed  to  statics.  It  is  the  science 
that  treats  of  the  laws  of  force,  whether  producing 
equilibrium  or  motion;  in  this  sense  including  both 
statics  and  kinetics.  It  is  also  applied  to  the  forces 
producing  or  governing  activity  or  movement  of 
any  kind;  also  the  methods  of  such  activity." 

The  big  words  rolled  out  magnificently  over  the 
awed  gathering,  and  the  minister  flattened  his  chin 
and  rolled  his  eyes  up  at  the  people  in  his  most  im- 
pressive way. 

Margaret's  gaze  hastily  sought  the  row  of  rough 
men  on  the  front  seat,  sitting  with  folded  arms  in  an 
attitude  of  attention,  each  man  with  a  pair  of  in- 
telligent eyes  under  his  shaggy  brows  regarding  the 
preacher  as  they  might  have  regarded  an  animal  in 
a  zoo.  Did  they  understand  what  had  been  said? 
It  was  impossible  to  tell  from  their  serious  faces. 

"Philanthropy  has  been  called  the  dynamics  of 
Christianity;  that  is  to  say,  it  is  Christianity  in 
action,"  went  on  the  preacher.  "It  is  my  purpose 

135 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

this  morning  to  speak  upon  the  dynamics  of  altruism. 
Now  altruism  is  the  theory  that  inculcates  benevo- 
lence to  others  in  subordination  to  self-interest;  in- 
terested benevolence  as  opposed  to  disinterested; 
also,  the  practice  of  this  theory." 

He  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  audience  once  more  and 
nodded  his  head  slightly,  as  if  to  emphasize  the  deep 
truth  he  had  just  given  them,  and  the  battery  of 
keen  eyes  before  him  never  flinched  from  his  face. 
They  were  searching  him  through  and  through. 
Margaret  wondered  if  he  had  no  sense  of  the  ridicu- 
lous, that  he  could,  to  such  an  audience,  pour  forth 
such  a  string  of  technical  definitions.  They  sounded 
strangely  like  dictionary  language.  She  wondered  if 
anybody  present  besides  herself  knew  what  the  man 
meant  or  got  any  inkling  of  what  his  subject  was. 
Surely  he  would  drop  to  simpler  language,  now  that 
he  had  laid  out  his  plan. 

It  never  occurred  to  her  that  the  man  was  trying 
to  impress  her  with  his  wonderful  fluency  of  language 
and  his  marvelous  store  of  wisdom.  On  and  on  he 
went  in  much  the  same  trend  he  had  begun,  with 
now  and  then  a  flowery  sentence  or  whole  paragraph 
of  meaningless  eloquence  about  the  "  brotherhood 
of  man" — with  a  roll  to  the  r's  in  brotherhood. 

Fifteen  minutes  of  this  profitless  oratory  those 
men  of  the  wilderness  endured,  stolidly  and  with 
fixed  attention;  then,  suddenly,  a  sentence  of  un- 
usual simplicity  struck  them  and  an  almost  visible 
thrill  went  down  the  front  seat. 

"For  years  the  church  has  preached  a  dead  faith, 
without  works,  my  friends,  and  the  time  has  come 
to  stop  preaching  faith!  I  repeat  it — fellow-men. 

136 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

I  repeat  it.  The  time  has  come  to  stop  preaching 
faith  and  begin  to  do  good  works!"  He  thumped 
the  desk  vehemently.  "Men  don't  need  a  super- 
stitious belief  in  a  Saviour  to  save  them  from  their 
sins;  they  need  to  go  to  work  and  save  themselves! 
As  if  a  man  dying  two  thousand  years  ago  on  a  cross 
could  do  any  good  to  you  and  me  to-day!" 

It  was  then  that  the  thrill  passed  down  that  front 
line,  and  Long  Bill,  sitting  at  then*  head,  leaned 
slightly  forward  and  looked  full  and  frowning  into 
the  face  of  Jasper  Kemp;  and  the  latter,  frowning 
back,  solemnly  winked  one  eye.  Margaret  sat 
where  she  could  see  the  whole  thing. 

Immediately,  still  with  studied  gravity,  Long  Bill 
cleared  his  throat  impressively,  arose,  and,  giving 
the  minister  a  full  look  in  the  eye,  of  the  nature 
almost  of  a  challenge,  he  turned  and  walked  slowly, 
noisily  down  the  aisle  and  out  the  front  door. 

The  minister  was  visibly  annoyed,  and  for  the 
moment  a  trifle  flustered;  but,  concluding  his  re- 
marks had  been  too  deep  for  the  rough  creature,  he 
gathered  up  the  thread  of  his  argument  and  pro- 
ceeded: 

"We  need  to  get  to  work  at  our  duty  toward  our 
fellow-men.  We  need  to  down  trusts  and  give  the 
laboring-man  a  chance.  We  need  to  stop  insisting 
that  men  shall  believe  in  the  inspiration  of  the  en- 
tire Bible  and  get  to  work  at  something  practical!" 

The  impressive  pause  after  this  sentence  was  in- 
terrupted by  a  sharp,  rasping  sound  of  Big  Jim  clear- 
ing his  throat  and  shuffling  to  his  feet.  He,  too, 
looked  the  minister  full  in  the  face  with  a  searching 
gaze,  shook  his  head  sadly,  and  walked  leisurely 

137 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

down  the  aisle  and  out  of  the  door.  The  minister 
paused  again  and  frowned.  This  was  becoming 
annoying. 

Margaret  sat  in  startled  wonder.  Could  it  be  pos- 
sible that  these  rough  men  were  objecting  to  the 
sermon  from  a  theological  point  of  view,  or  was  it 
just  a  happening  that  they  had  gone  out  at  such 
pointed  moments.  She  sat  back  after  a  minute,  tell- 
ing herself  that  of  course  the  men  must  just  have 
been  weary  of  the  long  sentences,  which  no  doubt 
they  could  not  understand.  She  began  to  hope  that 
Gardley  was  not  within  hearing.  It  was  not  prob- 
able that  many  others  understood  enough  to  get 
harm  from  the  sermon,  but  her  soul  boiled  with  in- 
dignation that  a  man  could  go  forth  and  call  him- 
self a  minister  of  an  evangelical  church  and  yet 
talk  such  terrible  heresy. 

Big  Jim's  steps  died  slowly  away  on  the  clay  path 
outside,  and  the  preacher  resumed  his  discourse. 

"We  have  preached  long  enough  of  hell  and  tor- 
ment. It  is  time  for  a  gospel  of  love  to  our  brothers. 
Hell  is  a  superstition  of  the  Dark  Ages.  There  is 
no  hell!" 

Fiddling  Boss  turned  sharply  toward  Jasper  Kemp, 
as  if  waiting  for  a  signal,  and  Jasper  gave  a  slight, 
almost  imperceptible  nod.  Whereupon  Fiddling 
Boss  cleared  his  throat  loudly  and  arose,  faced  the 
minister,  and  marched  down  the  aisle,  while  Jasper 
Kemp  remained  quietly  seated  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened, a  vacancy  each  side  of  him. 

By  this  time  the  color  began  to  rise  in  the  min- 
ister's cheeks.  He  looked  at  the  retreating  back 
of  Fiddling  Boss,  and  then  suspiciously  down  at 

138 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

the  row  of  men,  but  every  one  of  them  sat  with 
folded  arms  and  eyes  intent  upon  the  sermon,  as 
if  their  comrades  had  not  left  them.  The  minister 
thought  he  must  have  been  mistaken  and  took  up 
the  broken  thread  once  more,  or  tried  to,  but  he  had 
hopelessly  lost  the  place  in  his  manuscript,  and  the 
only  clue  that  offered  was  a  quotation  of  a  poem 
about  the  devil;  to  be  sure,  the  connection  was  some- 
what abrupt,  but  he  clutched  it  with  his  eye  grate- 
fully and  began  reading  it  dramatically: 

"'Men  don't  believe  in  the  devil  now 
As  their  fathers  used  to  do — '" 

But  he  had  got  no  further  when  a  whole  dealing- 
house  of  throats  sounded,  and  Fade-away  Forbes 
stumbled  to  his  feet  frantically,  bolting  down  the 
aisle  as  if  he  had  been  sent  for.  He  had  not  quite 
reached  the  door  when  Stocky  clumped  after  him, 
followed  at  intervals  by  Croaker  and  Fudge,  and 
each  just  as  the  minister  had  begun: 

"Urn!    Ah!    To  resume—" 

And  now  only  Jasper  Kemp  remained  of  the  front- 
seaters,  his  fine  gray  eyes  boring  through  and  through 
the  minister  as  he  floundered  through  the  remaining 
portion  of  his  manuscript  up  to  the  point  where  it 
began,  "And  finally — "  which  opened  with  another 
poem: 

'"I  need  no  Christ  to  die  for  me.'" 

The  sturdy,  gray-haired  Scotchman  suddenly  low- 
ered his  folded  arms,  slapping  a  hand  resoundingly 
on  each  knee,  bent  his  shoulders  the  better  to  pull 
himself  to  his  feet,  pressing  his  weight  on  his  hands 

139 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

till  his  elbows  were  akimbo,  uttered  a  deep  sigh 
and  a,  "Yes— well—  ah!" 

With  that  he  got  to  his  feet  and  dragged  them 
slowly  out  of  the  school-house. 

By  this  tune  the  minister  was  ready  to  burst  with 
indignation.  Never  before  in  all  the  bombastic  days 
of  his  egotism  had  he  been  so  grossly  insulted,  and 
by  such  rude  creatures!  And  yet  there  was  really 
nothing  that  could  be  said  or  done.  These  men 
appeared  to  be  simple  creatures  who  had  wandered 
in  idly,  perhaps  for  a  few  moments'  amusement,  and, 
finding  the  discourse  above  their  caliber,  had  in- 
nocently wandered  out  again.  That  was  the  way  it 
had  been  made  to  appear.  But  his  plans  had  been 
cruelly  upset  by  such  actions,  and  he  was  mortified 
in  the  extreme.  His  face  was  purple  with  his  emo- 
tions, and  he  struggled  and  spluttered  for  a  way 
out  of  his  trying  dilemma.  At  last  he  spoke,  and 
his  voice  was  absurdly  dignified: 

"Is  there — ah — any  other — ah — auditor — ah — who 
is  desirous  of  withdrawing  before  the  close  of  ser- 
vice? If  so  he  may  do  so  now,  or — ah — "  He  paused 
for  a  suitable  ending,  and  familiar  words  rushed  to 
his  lips  without  consciousness  for  the  moment  of 
their  meaning — "or  forever  after  hold  their  peace — 
ah!" 

There  was  a  deathly  silence  in  the  school-house. 
No  one  offered  to  go  out,  and  Margaret  suddenly 
turned  her  head  and  looked  out  of  the  window.  Her 
emotions  were  almost  beyond  her  control. 

Thus  the  closing  eloquence  proceeded  to  its  finish, 
and  at  last  the  service  was  over.  Margaret  looked 
about  for  Mom  Wallis,  but  she  had  disappeared^ 

140 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

She  signed  to  Bud,  and  together  they  hastened  out; 
but  a  quiet  Sabbath  peace  reigned  about  the  door 
of  the  school-house,  and  not  a  man  from  the  camp 
was  in  sight;  no,  nor  even  the  horses  upon  which 
they  had  come. 

And  yet,  when  the  minister  had  finished  shaking 
hands  with  the  worshipful  women  and  a  few  men 
and  children,  and  came  with  Mr.  Tanner  to  the  door 
of  the  school-house,  those  eight  men  stood  in  a  sol- 
emn row,  four  on  each  side  of  the  walk,  each  holding 
his  chin  in  his  right  hand,  his  right  elbow  hi  his  left 
hand,  and  all  eyes  on  Jasper  Kemp,  who  kept  his 
eyes  thoughtfully  up  in  the  sky. 

"H'w  aire  yeh,  Tanner?  Pleasant  'casion.  Mind 
steppin'  on  a  bit?  We  men  wanta  have  a  word  with 
the  parson." 

Mr.  Tanner  stepped  on  hurriedly,  and  the  minister 
was  left  standing  nonplussed  and  alone  in  the  door- 
way of  the  school-house. 


IO 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"T  TM!    Ah!"  began  the  minister,  trying  to  sum- 

U  mon  his  best  clerical  manner  to  meet — what? 
He  did  not  know.  It  was  best  to  assume  they  were 
a  penitent  band  of  inquirers  for  the  truth.  But 
the  memory  of  their  recent  exodus  from  the  service 
was  rather  too  clearly  in  his  mind  for  his  pleasantest 
expression  to  be  uppermost  toward  these  rough 
creatures.  Insolent  fellows!  He  ought  to  give 
them  a  good  lesson  in  behavior! 

"Um!  Ah!"  he  began  again,  but  found  to  his 
surprise  that  his  remarks  thus  far  had  had  no  effect 
whatever  on  the  eight  stolid  countenances  before 
him.  In  fact,  they  seemed  to  have  grown  grim  and 
menacing  even  in  their  quiet  attitude,  and  their 
eyes  were  fulfilling  the  promise  of  the  look  they  had 
given  him  when  they  left  the  service. 

"What  does  all  this  mean,  anyway?"  he  burst 
forth,  suddenly. 

"Calm  yourself,  elder!  Calm  yourself,"  spoke 
up  Long  Bill.  "There  ain't  any  occasion  to  getv 
excited." 

"I'm  not  an  elder;  I'm  a  minister  of  the  gospel," 
exploded  West,  in  his  most  pompous  tones.  "I 
should  like  to  know  who  you  are  and  what  all 
this  means?" 

142 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

"Yes,  parson,  we  understand  who  you  are.  We 
understand  quite  well,  an'  we're  agoin'  to  tell  you 
who  we  are.  We're  a  band  of  al-tru-ists!  That's 
what  we  are.  We're  altruists!"  It  was  Jasper  Kemp 
of  the  keen  eyes  and  sturdy  countenance  who  spoke. 
"And  we've  come  here  in  brotherly  love  to  exercise 
a  little  of  that  dynamic  force  of  altruism  you  was 
talkin'  about.  We  just  thought  we'd  begin  on  you 
so's  you  could  see  that  we  got  some  works  to  go 
'long  with  our  faith." 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  said  West,  looking 
from  one  grim  countenance  to  another.  "I — I  don't 
quite  understand."  The  minister  was  beginning  to 
be  frightened,  he  couldn't  exactly  tell  why.  He 
wished  he  had  kept  Brother  Tanner  with  him.  It 
was  the  first  tune  he  had  ever  thought  of  Mr.  Tanner 
as  "brother." 

"We  mean  just  this,  parson;  you  been  talkin'  a 
lot  of  lies  in  there  about  there  bein'  no  Saviour  an' 
no  hell,  ner  no  devil,  an'  while  we  ain't  much  credit 
to  God  ourselves,  bein'  just  common  men,  we  know 
all  that  stuff  you  said  ain't  true  about  the  Bible  an' 
the  devil  bein'  superstitions,  an'  we  thought  we 
better  exercise  a  little  of  that  there  altruism  you 
was  talkin'  about  an'  teach  you  better.  You  see, 
it's  real  brotherly  kindness,  parson.  An'  now  we're 
goin'  to  give  you  a  sample  of  that  dynamics  you 
spoke  about.  Are  you  ready,  boys?" 

"All  ready,"  they  cried  as  one  man. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  concerted  motion,  nor  was 
there  warning.  Swifter  than  the  weaver's  shuttle, 
sudden  as  the  lightning's  flash,  the  minister  was 
caught  from  where  he  stood  pompously  in  that 

143 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

doorway,  hat  in  hand,  all  grandly  as  he  was  attired, 
and  hurled  from  man  to  man.  Across  the  walk  and 
back;  across  and  back;  across  and  back;  until  it 
seemed  to  him  it  was  a  thousand  miles  all  in  a 
minute  of  time.  He  had  no  opportunity  to  prepare 
for  the  onslaught.  He  jammed  his  high  silk  hat, 
wherewith  he  had  thought  to  overawe  the  com- 
munity, upon  his  sleek  head,  and  grasped  his  precious 
sermon-case  to  his  breast;  the  sermon,  as  it  well 
deserved,  was  flung  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven 
and  fortunately  was  no  more — that  is,  existing  as  a 
whole.  The  time  came  when  each  of  those  eight 
men  recovered  and  retained  a  portion  of  that  learned 
oration,  and  Mom  Wallis,  not  quite  understanding, 
pinned  up  and  used  as  a  sort  of  shrine  the  portion 
about  doubting  the  devil;  but  as  a  sermon  the  parts 
were  never  assembled  on  this  earth,  nor  could 
be,  for  some  of  it  was  ground  to  powder  under  eight 
pairs  of  ponderous  heels.  But  the  minister  at  that 
trying  moment  was  too  much  otherwise  engaged  to 
notice  that  the  child  of  his  brain  lay  scattered  on 
the  ground. 

Seven  tunes  he  made  the  round  up  and  down, 
up  and  down  that  merciless  group,  tossed  like  a 
thistle-down  from  man  to  man.  And  at  last,  when 
his  breath  was  gone,  when  the  world  had  grown 
black  before  him,  and  he  felt  smaller  and  more  in- 
adequate than  he  had  ever  felt  in  his  whole  conceited 
life  before,  he  found  himself  bound,  helplessly 
bound,  and  cast  ignominiously  into  a  wagon.  And 
it  was  a  strange  thing  that,  though  seemingly  but 
five  short  minutes  before  the  place  had  been  swarm- 
ing with  worshipful  admirers  thanking  him  for  his 

144 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

sermon,  now  there  did  not  seem  to  be  a  creature 
within  hearing,  for  he  called  and  cried  aloud  and 
roared  with  his  raucous  voice  until  it  would  seem 
that  all  the  surrounding  States  might  have  heard 
that  cry  from  Arizona,  yet  none  came  to  his  relief. 

They  carried  him  away  somewhere,  he  did  not 
know  where;  it  was  a  lonely  spot  and  near  a  water- 
hole.  When  he  protested  and  loudly  blamed  them, 
threatening  all  the  law  in  the  land  upon  them,  they 
regarded  him  as  one  might  a  naughty  child  who  needed 
chastisement,  leniently  and  with  sorrow,  but  also 
with  determination. 

They  took  him  down  by  the  water's  side  and  stood 
him  up  among  them.  He  began  to  tremble  with 
fear  as  he  looked  from  one  to  another,  for  he  was 
not  a  man  of  courage,  and  he  had  heard  strange 
tales  of  this  wild,  free  land,  where  every  man  was  a 
law  unto  himself.  Were  they  going  to  drown  him 
then  and  there?  Then  up  spoke  Jasper  Kemp: 

"Mr.  Parson,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  kind 
but  firm;  one  might  almost  say  there  was  a  hint 
of  humor  in  it,  and  there  surely  was  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye;  but  the  sternness  of  his  lips  belied  it,  and 
the  minister  was  in  no  state  to  appreciate  humor — 
"Mr.  Parson,  we've  brought  you  here  to  do  you  good, 
an'  you  oughtn't  to  complain.  This  is  altruism,  an' 
we're  but  actin'  out  what  you  been  preachin'. 
You're  our  brother  an'  we're  tryin'  to  do  you  good; 
an'  now  we're  about  to  show  you  what  a  dynamic 
force  we  are.  You  see,  Mr.  Parson,  I  was  brought 
up  by  a  good  Scotch  grandmother,  an'  I  know  a  lie 
when  I  hear  it,  an'  when  I  hear  a  man  preach  error 
I  know  it's  time  to  set  him  straight;  so  now  we're 

145 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

agoin'  to  set  you  straight.  I  don't  know  where  you 
come  from,  nor  who  brang  you  up,  nor  what  church 
set  you  afloat,  but  I  know  enough  by  all  my  grand- 
mother taught  me — even  if  I  hadn't  been  a-listenin' 
off  and  on  for  two  years  back  to  Mr.  Brownleigh, 
our  missionary — to  know  you're  a  dangerous  man 
to  have  at  large.  I'd  as  soon  have  a  mad  dog  let 
loose.  Why,  what  you  preach  ain't  the  gospel,  an' 
it  ain't  the  truth,  and  the  time  has  come  for  you 
to  know  it,  an'  own  it  and  recant.  Recant!  That's 
what  they  call  it.  That's  what  we're  here  to  see  't 
you  do,  or  we'll  know  the  reason  why.  That's  the 
dynamics  of  it.  See?" 

The  minister  saw.  He  saw  the  deep,  muddy 
water-hole.  He  saw  nothing  more. 

"  Folks  are  all  too  ready  to  believe  them  there 
things  you  was  gettin'  off  without  havin'  'em  preached 
to  justify  'em  in  their  evil  ways.  We  gotta  think 
of  those  poor  ignorant  brothers  of  ours  that  might 
listen  to  you.  See?  That's  the  altruism  of  it!" 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  The  wretched 
man's  tone  was  not  merely  humble — it  was  abject. 
His  grand  Prince  Albert  coat  was  torn  in  three  places; 
one  tail  hung  down  dejectedly  over  his  hip;  one 
sleeve  was  ripped  half-way  out.  His  collar  was  un- 
buttoned and  the  ends  rode  up  hilariously  over  his 
cheeks.  His  necktie  was  gone.  His  sleek  hair 
stuck  out  in  damp  wisps  about  his  frightened  eyes, 
and  his  hat  had  been  "stove  in"  and  jammed  down 
as  far  as  it  would  go  until  his  ample  ears  stuck  out 
like  sails  at  half-mast.  His  feet  were  imbedded  in 
the  heavy  mud  on  the  margin  of  the  water-hole, 
and  his  fine  silk  socks,  which  had  showed  at  one 

146 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

time  above  the  erstwhile  neat  tyings,  were  torn  and 
covered  with  mud. 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,"  said  Jasper  Kemp,  with 
a  slow  wink  around  at  the  company,  "that  little 
matter  about  hell  needs  adjustin'.  Hell  ain't  no 
superstition.  I  ain't  dictatin'  what  kind  of  a  hell 
there  is;  you  can  make  it  fire  or  water  or  anything 
else  you  like,  but  there  is  a  hell,  an'  you  believe 
in  it.  D'ye  understand?  We'd  just  like  to  have 
you  make  that  statement  publicly  right  here  an' 


now." 


"But  how  can  I  say  what  I  don't  believe?"  whined 
West,  almost  ready  to  cry.  He  had  come  proudly 
through  a  trial  by  Presbytery  on  these  very  same 
points,  and  had  posed  as  being  a  man  who  had 
the  courage  of  his  convictions.  He  could  not  thus 
easily  surrender  his  pride  of  original  thought  and 
broad-mindedness.  He  had  received  congratula- 
tions from  a  number  of  noble  martyrs  who  had  left 
their  chosen  church  for  just  such  reasons,  congratu- 
lating him  on  his  brave  stand.  It  had  been  the  first 
notice  from  big  men  he  had  ever  been  able  to  at- 
tract to  himself,  and  it  had  gone  to  his  head  like 
wine.  Give  that  up  for  a  few  miserable  cowboys! 
It  might  get  into  the  papers  and  go  back  East.  He 
must  think  of  his  reputation. 

"That's  just  where  the  dynamics  of  the  thing 
comes  in,  brother,"  said  Jasper  Kemp,  patronizingly. 
"We're  here  to  make  you  believe  in  a  hell.  We're 
the  force  that  will  bring  you  back  into  the  right 
way  of  thinkin'  again.  Are  you  ready,  boys?" 

The  quiet  utterance  brought  goose-flesh  up  to 
West's  very  ears,  and  his  eyes  bulged  with  horror. 

147 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"Oh,  that  isn't  necessary!  I  believe — yes,  I  be- 
lieve in  hell!"  he  shouted,  as  they  seized  him. 

But  it  was  too  late.  The  Rev.  Frederick  West  was 
plunged  into  the  water-hole,  from  whose  sheep- 
muddied  waters  he  came  up  spluttering,  "Yes,  I 
believe  in  hell!"  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
perhaps,  he  really  did  believe  in  it,  and  thought 
that  he  was  in  it. 

The  men  were  standing  knee-deep  in  the  water 
and  holding  their  captive  lightly  by  his  arms  and 
legs,  their  eyes  upon  their  leader,  waiting  now. 

Jasper  Kemp  stood  in  the  water,  also,  looking 
down  benevolently  upon  his  victim,  his  chin  in  his 
hand,  his  elbow  in  his  other  hand,  an  attitude  which 
carried  a  feeling  of  hopelessness  to  the  frightened 
minister. 

"An'  now  there's  that  little  matter  of  the  devil," 
said  Jasper  Kemp,  reflectively.  "We'll  just  fix  that 
up  next  while  we're  near  his  place  of  residence. 
You  believe  in  the  devil,  Mr.  Parson,  from  now  on? 
If  you'd  ever  tried  resistin'  him  I  figger  you'd  have 
b'lieved  in  him  long  ago.  But  you  believe  in  him 
from  now  on,  an'  you  don't  preach  against  him  any 
more!  We're  not  goin'  to  have  our  Arizona  men 
gettin'  off  their  guard  an'  thinkin'  their  enemy  is 
dead.  There  is  a  devil,  parson,  and  you  believe 
in  him!  Duck  him,  boys!" 

Down  went  the  minister  into  the  water  again,  and 
came  up  spluttering,  "Yes,  I — I — I — believe — in — 
the — devil."  Even  in  this  strait  he  was  loath  to 
surrender  his  pet  theme — no  devil. 

"Very  well,  so  far  as  it  goes,"  said  Jasper  Kemp, 
thoughtfully.  "But  now,  boys,  we're  comin'  to  the 

148 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

most  important  of  all,  and  you  better  put  him  under 
about  three  times,  for  there  mustn't  be  no  mistake 
about  this  matter.  You  believe  in  the  Bible,  parson 
— the  whole  Bibk?" 

"Yes!"  gasped  West,  as  he  went  down  the  first 
time  and  got  a  mouthful  of  the  bitter  water,  "I  be- 
lieve— "  The  voice  was  fairly  anguished.  Down  he 
went  again.  Another  mouthful  of  water.  "I  be- 
lieve in  the  whole  Bibk!"  he  screamed,  and  went  down 
the  third  time.  His  voice  was  growing  weaker,  but 
he  came  up  and  reiterated  it  without  request,  and 
was  lifted  out  upon  the  mud  "for  a  brief  respite. 
The  men  of  the  bunk-house  were  succeeding  better 
than  the  Presbytery  back  in  the  East  had  been  able 
to  do.  The  conceit  was  no  longer  visible  in  the 
face  of  the  Reverend  Frederick.  His  teeth  were 
chattering,  and  he  was  beginning  to  see  one  really 
needed  to  believe  in  something  when  one  came  as 
near  to  his  end  as  this. 

" There's  just  one  more  thing  to  reckon  with," 
said  Jasper  Kemp,  thoughtfully.  "That  line  of  talk 
you  was  handin'  out  about  a  man  dyin'  on  a  cross 
two  thousand  years  ago  bein'  nothin'  to  you.  You 
said  you  an'  me,  but  you  can  speak  for  yourself. 
We  may  not  be  much  to  look  at,  but  we  ain't  goin'  to 
stand  for  no  such  slander  as  that.  Our  missionary 
preaches  all  about  that  Man  on  the  Cross,  an'  if 
you  don't  need  Him  before  you  get  through  this 
little  campaign  of  life  I'll  miss  my  guess.  Mebbe 
we  haven't  been  all  we  might  have  been,  but  we 
ain't  agoin'  to  let  you  ner  no  one  else  go  back  on 
that  there  Cross!" 

Jasper  Kemp's  tone  was  tender  and  solemn.    As 

149 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

the  minister  lay  panting  upon  his  back  in  the  mud 
he  was  forced  to  acknowledge  that  at  only  two  other 
times  in  his  life  had  a  tone  of  voice  so  arrested  his 
attention  and  filled  him  with  awe;  once  when  as  a 
boy  he  had  been  caught  copying  off  another's  paper 
at  examination-time,  and  he  had  been  sent  to  the 
principal's  office;  and  again  on  the  occasion  of  his 
mother's  funeral,  as  he  sat  in  the  dim  church  a  few 
years  ago  and  listened  to  the  old  minister.  For  a 
moment  now  he  was  impressed  with  the  wonder  of 
the  Cross,  and  it  suddenly  seemed  as  if  he  were  being 
arraigned  before  the  eyes  of  Hun  with  Whom  we 
all  have  to  do.  A  kind  of  shame  stole  into  his  pale, 
flabby  face,  all  the  smugness  and  complacence  gone, 
and  he  a  poor  wretch  in  the  hands  of  his  accusers. 
Jasper  Kemp,  standing  over  him  on  the  bank,  look- 
ing down  grimly  upon  him,  seemed  like  the  emissary 
of  God  sent  to  condemn  him,  and  his  little,  self 
centered  soul  quailed  within  him. 

"Along  near  the  end  of  that  discourse  of  yours 
you  mentioned  that  sin  was  only  misplaced  energy. 
Well,  if  that's  so  there's  a  heap  of  your  energy  gone 
astray  this  mornin',  an'  the  time  has  come  for 
you  to  pay  up.  Speak  up  now  an'  say  what  you 
believe  or  whether  you  want  another  duckin' — an' 
it  '11  be  seven  times  this  time!" 

The  man  on  the  ground  shut  his  eyes  and  gasped. 
The  silence  was  very  solemn.  There  seemed  no  hint 
of  the  ridiculous  in  the  situation.  It  was  serious 
business  now  to  all  those  men.  Their  eyes  were  on 
their  leader. 

" Do  you  solemnly  declare  before  God — I  s'pose 
you  still  believe  in  a  God,  as  you  didn't  say  nothin' 

150 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

to  the  contrary — that  from  now  on  you'll  stand  for 
that  there  Cross  and  for  Him  that  hung  on  it?" 

The  minister  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  up  into 
the  wide  brightness  of  the  sky,  as  if  he  half  expected 
to  see  horses  and  chariots  of  fire  standing  about  to 
do  battle  with  him  then  and  there,  and  his  vdice 
was  awed  and  frightened  as  he  said: 

"i  dor 

There  was  silence,  and  the  men  stood  with  half- 
bowed  heads,  as  if  some  solemn  service  were  being 
performed  that  they  did  not  quite  understand,  but 
in  which  they  fully  sympathized.  Then  Jasper  Kemp 
said,  softly: 

"Amen!"  And  after  a  pause:  "I  ain't  any  sort 
of  a  Christian  myself,  but  I  just  can't  stand  it  to 
see  a  parson  floatin'  round  that  don't  even  know  the 
name  of  the  firm  he's  workin'  for.  Now,  parson, 
there's  just  one  more  requirement,  an'  then  you 
can  go  home." 

The  minister  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  around 
with  a  frightened  appeal,  but  no  one  moved,  and 
Jasper  Kemp  went  on: 

"You  say  you  had  a  church  in  New  York.  What 
was  the  name  and  address  of  your  workin'-boss  up 
there?" 

"What  do  you  mean?    I  hadn't  any  boss." 

"Why,  him  that  hired  you  an'  paid  you.  The 
chief  elder  or  whatever  you  called  him." 

"Oh!"  The  minister's  tone  expressed  lack  of  in- 
terest in  the  subject,  but  he  answered,  languidly, 
"Ezekiel  Newbold,  Hazelton." 

"Very  good.  Now,  parson,  you'll  just  kindly 
write  two  copies  of  a  letter  to  Mr.  Ezekiel  Newbold 

151 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

statin7  what  you've  just  said  to  us  concernin'  your 
change  of  faith,  sign  your  name,  address  one  to 
Mr.  Newbold,  an'  give  the  duplicate  to  me.  We 
just  want  this  little  matter  put  on  record  so  you 
can't  change  your  mind  any  hi  future.  Do  you  get 
my  idea?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  minister,  dispiritedly. 

"Will  you  do  it?" 

"Yes,"  apathetically. 

"Well,  now  I  got  a  piece  of  advice  for  you.  It 
would  be  just  as  well  for  your  health  for  you  to 
leave  Arizona  about  as  quick  as  you  can  find  it  con- 
venient to  pack,  but  you  won't  be  allowed  to  leave 
this  town,  day  or  night,  cars  or  afoot,  until  them 
there  letters  are  all  O.  K.  Do  you  get  me?" 

"Yes,"  pathetically. 

"I  might  add,  by  way  of  explaining  that  if  you 
had  come  to  Arizona  an'  minded  your  own  business 
you  wouldn't  have  been  interfered  with.  You 
mighta  preached  whatever  bosh  you  darned  pleased 
so  far  as  we  was  concerned,  only  you  wouldn't  have 
had  no  sorta  audience  after  the  first  try  of  that 
stuff  you  give  to-day.  But  when  you  come  to 
Arizona  an'  put  your  fingers  in  other  folks'  pie, 
when  you  tried  to  ' squeal'  on  the  young  gentleman 
who  was  keen  enough  to  shoot  out  the  lights  to  save 
a  man's  life,  why,  we  'ain't  no  further  use  for  you. 
In  the  first  place,  you  was  all  wrong.  You  thought 
the  Kid  shot  out  the  lights  to  steal  the  gamin'- 
money;  but  he  didn't.  He  put  it  all  hi  the  hands 
of  the  sheriff  some  hours  before  your  'private  in- 
formation' reached  him  through  the  mail.  You 
thought  you  were  awful  sharp,  you  little  sneak! 

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A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

But  I  wasn't  the  only  man  present  who  saw  you 
put  your  foot  out  an'  cover  a  gold  piece  that  rolled 
on  the  floor  just  when  the  fight  began.  You  thought 
nobody  was  a-lookin',  but  you'll  favor  us,  please, 
with  that  identical  gold  piece  along  with  the  letter 
before  you  leave.  Well,  boys,  that  '11  be  about  all, 
then.  Untie  him!" 

In  silence  and  with  a  kind  of  contemptuous  pity 
in  their  faces  the  strong  men  stooped  and  unbound 
him;  then,  without  another  word,  they  left  him, 
tramping  solemnly  away  single  file  to  their  horses, 
standing  at  a  little  distance. 

Jasper  Kemp  lingered  for  a  moment,  looking  down 
at  the  wretched  man.  "  Would  you  care  to  have  us 
carry  you  back  to  the  house?"  he  asked,  reflectively. 

"No!"  said  the  minister,  bitterly.  "No!"  And 
without  another  word  Jasper  Kemp  left  him. 

Into  the  mesquite-bushes  crept  the  minister,  his 
glory  all  departed,  and  hid  his  misery  from  the  light, 
groaning  in  bitterness  of  spirit.  He  who  had  made 
the  hearts  of  a  score  of  old  ministers  to  sorrow  for 
Zion,  who  had  split  in  two  a  pleasantly  united  con- 
gregation, disrupted  a  session,  and  brought  about  a 
scandalous  trial  in  Presbytery  was  at  last  con- 
quered. The  Rev.  Frederick  West  had  recanted! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHEN  Margaret  left  the  school-house  with  Bud 
she  had  walked  but  a  few  steps  when  she  re- 
membered Mom  Wallis  and  turned  back  to  search 
for  her;  but  nowhere  could  she  find  a  trace 
of  her,  and  the  front  of  the  school-house  was  as 
empty  of  any  people  from  the  camp  as  if  they  had 
not  been  there  that  morning.  The  curtain  had  not 
yet  risen  for  the  scene  of  the  undoing  of  West. 

"I  suppose  she  must  have  gone  home  with  them/' 
said  the  girl,  wistfully.  "I'm  sorry  not  to  have 
spoken  with  her.  She  was  good  to  me." 

"You  mean  Mom  Wallis?"  said  the  boy.  "No, 
she  ain't  gone  home.  She's  hiking  'long  to  our 
house  to  see  you.  The  Kid  went  along  of  her.  See, 
there — down  by  those  cottonwood-trees?  That's 
them." 

Margaret  turned  with  eagerness  and  hurried  along 
with  Bud  now.  She  knew  who  it  was  they  called 
the  Kid  in  that  tone  of  voice.  It  was  the  way  the 
men  had  spoken  of  and  to  him,  a  mingling  of  respect 
and  gentling  that  showed  how  much  beloved  he  was. 
Her  cheeks  wore  a  heightened  color,  and  her  heart 
gave  a  pleasant  flutter  of  interest. 

They  walked  rapidly  and  caught  up  with  their 
guests  before  they  had  reached  the  Tanner  house, 

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A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

and  Margaret  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mom 
Wallis  Js  face  flush  with  shy  delight  when  she  caught 
her  softly  round  the  waist,  stealing  quietly  up  be- 
hind, and  greeted  her  with  a  kiss.  There  had  not 
been  many  kisses  for  Mom  Wallis  in  the  later  years, 
-.and  the  two  that  were  to  Margaret  Earle's  account 
'seemed  very  sweet  to  her.  Mom  Wallis's  eyes  shone 
as  if  she  had  been  a  young  girl  as  she  turned  with 
a  smothered  "Oh!"  She  was  a  woman  not  given  to 
expressing  herself;  indeed,  it  might  be  said  that  the 
last  twenty  years  of  her  life  had  been  mainly  of  self- 
repression.  She  gave  that  one  little  gasp  of  recog- 
nition and  pleasure,  and  then  she  relapsed  into  em- 
barrassed silence  beside  the  two  young  people  who 
found  pleasure  in  their  own  greetings.  Bud,  boy- 
like,  was  after  a  cottontail,  along  with  Cap,  who 
had  appeared  from  no  one  knew  where  and  was 
attending  the  party  joyously. 

Morn  Wallis,  in  her  big,  rough  shoes,  on  the  heels  of 
which  her  scant  brown  calico  gown  was  lifted  as  she 
walked,  trudged  shyly  along  between  the  two  young 
people,  as  carefully  watched  and  helped  over  the 
humps  and  bumps  of  the  way  as  if  she  had  been  a 
princess.  Margaret  noticed  with  a  happy  approval 
how  Gardley's  hand  was  ready  under  the  old  woman's 
elbow  to  assist  her  as  politely  as  he  might  have  done 
for  her  own  mother  had  she  been  walking  by  his 
side. 

Presently  Bud  and  Cap  returned,  and  Bud,  with 
observant  eye,  soon  timed  his  step  to  Margaret's 
on  her  other  side  and  touched  her  elbow  lightly  to 
help  her  over  the  next  rut.  This  was  his  second 
lesson  in  manners  from  Gardley.  He  had  his  first 

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A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

the  Sunday  before,  watching  the  two  while  he  and 
Cap  walked  behind.  Bud  was  learning.  He  had 
keen  eyes  and  an  alert  brain.  Margaret  smiled 
understandingly  at  him,  and  his  face  grew  deep  red 
with  pleasure. 

"He  was  bringin'  me  to  see  where  you  was  livin'," 
explained  Mom  Wallis,  suddenly,  nodding  toward 
Gardley  as  if  he  had  been  a  king.     "We  wasn't 
hopin'  to  see  you,  except  mebbe  just  as  you  come  by  < 
goin'  in." 

"Oh,  then  I'm  so  glad  I  caught  up  with  you  in 
time.  I  wouldn't  have  missed  you  for  anything.  I 
went  back  to  look  for  you.  Now  you're  coming  in 
to  dinner  with  me,  both  of  you,"  declared  Margaret, 
joyfully.  "William,  your  mother  will  have  enough 
dinner  for  us  all,  won't  she?" 

"Sure!"  said  Bud,  with  that  assurance  born  of  his 
Me  acquaintance  with  his  mother,  who  had  never 
failed  him  in  a  trying  situation  so  far  as  things  to 
eat  were  concerned. 

Margaret  looked  happily  from  one  of  her  invited 
guests  to  the  other,  and  Gardley  forgot  to  answer 
for  himself  in  watching  the  brightness  of  her  face,  and 
wondering  why  it  was  so  different  from  the  faces  of 
all  other  girls  he  knew  anywhere. 

But  Mom  Wallis  was  overwhelmed.  A  wave  of 
red  rolled  dully  up  from  her  withered  neck  in  its 
gala  collar  over  her  leathery  face  to  the  roots  of 
her  thin,  gray  hair. 

"Me!  Stay  to  dinner!  Oh,  I  couldn't  do  that 
nohow!  Not  in  these  here  clo'es.  'Course  I  got  that 
pretty  collar  you  give  me,  but  I  couldn't  never  go 
out  to  dinner  in  this  old  dress  an'  these  shoes.  I 

156 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

know  what  folks  ought  to  look  like  an'  I  ain't  goin* 
to  shame  you." 

" Shame  me?  Nonsense!  Your  dress  is  all  right, 
and  who  is  going  to  see  your  shoes?  Besides,  I've 
just  set  my  heart  on  it.  I  want  to  take  you  up  to 
my  room  and  show  you  the  pictures  of  my  father 
and  mother  and  home  and  the  church  where  I  was 
christened,  and  everything." 

Mom  Wallis  looked  at  her  with  wistful  eyes,  but 
still  shook  her  head.  "Oh,  I'd  like  to  mighty  well. 
It's  good  of  you  to  ast  me.  But  I  couldn't.  I  just 
couldn't.  'Sides,  I  gotta  go  home  an'  git  the  men's 
grub  ready." 

"Oh,  can't  she  stay  this  time,  Mr.  Gardley?"  ap- 
pealed Margaret.  "The  men  won't  mind  for  once, 
will  they?" 

Gardley  looked  into  her  true  eyes  and  saw  she 
really  meant  the  invitation.  He  turned  to  the 
withered  old  woman  by  his  side.  "Mom,  we're 
going  to  stay,"  he  declared,  joyously.  "She  wants 
us,  and  we  have  to  do  whatever  she  says.  The  men 
will  rub  along.  They  all  know  how  to  cook.  Mom, 
we1  re  going  to  stay." 

"That's  beautiful!"  declared  Margaret.  "It's  so 
nice  to  have  some  company  of  my  own."  Then  her 
face  suddenly  sobered.  "Mr.  Wallis  won't  mind, 
will  he?"  And  she  looked  with  troubled  eyes  from 
one  of  her  guests  to  the  other.  She  did  not  want 
to  prepare  trouble  for  poor  Mom  Wallis  when  she 
went  back. 

Mom  Wallis  turned  startled  eyes  toward  her. 
There  was  contempt  in  her  face  and  outraged  woman- 
hood. "Pop's  gone  off,"  she  said,  significantly. 

ii  157 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

"He  went  yist'day.  But  he  'ain't  got  no  call  t'  mind. 
I  ben  waitin'  on  Pop  nigh  on  to  twenty  year,  an'  I 
guess  I'm  goin'  to  a  dinner-party,  now  't  I'm  in- 
vited. Pop  'd  better  not  mind,  I  guess!" 

And  Margaret  suddenly  saw  how  much,  how  very 
much,  her  invitation  had  been  to  the  starved  old 
soul.  Margaret  took  her  guests  into  the  stiff  little 
parlor  and  slipped  out  to  interview  her  landlady. 
She  found  Mrs.  Tanner,  as  she  had  expected,  a  large- 
minded  woman  who  was  quite  pleased  to  have  more 
guests  to  sit  down  to  her  generous  dinner,  particularly 
as  her  delightful  boarder  had  hinted  of  ample  recom- 
pense in  the  way  of  board  money;  and  she  fluttered 
about,  sending  Tanner  after  another  jar  of  pickles, 
some  more  apple-butter,  and  added  another  pie  to 
the  menu. 

Well  pleased,  Margaret  left  Mrs.  Tanner  and 
slipped  back  to  her  guests.  She  found  Gardley 
making  arrangements  with  Bud  to  run  back  to  the 
church  and  tell  the  men  to  leave  the  buckboard  for 
them,  as  they  would  not  be  home  for  dinner.  While 
this  was  going  on  she  took  Mom  Wallis  up  to  her 
room  to  remove  her  bonnet  and  smooth  her  hair. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  Mom  Wallis  ever  did  see 
such  a  room  in  her  life;  for  when  Margaret  swung 
open  the  door  the  poor  little  woman  stopped  short 
on  the  threshold,  abashed,  and  caught  her  breath, 
looking  around  with  wondering  eyes  and  putting 
out  a  trembling  hand  to  steady  herself  against  the 
door-frame.  She  wasn't  quite  sure  whether  things 
in  that  room  were  real,  or  whether  she  might  not  by 
chance  have  caught  a  glimpse  into  heaven,  so  beauti- 
ful did  it  seem  to  her.  It  was  not  till  her  eyes,  in  the 

158 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

roving,  suddenly  rested  on  the  great  mountain 
framed  in  the  open  window  that  she  felt  anchored 
and  sure  that  this  was  a  tangible  place.  Then  she 
ventured  to  step  her  heavy  shoe  inside  the  door. 
Even  then  she  drew  her  ugly  calico  back  apolo- 
getically, as  if  it  were  a  desecration  to  the  lovely 
room. 

But  Margaret  seized  her  and  drew  her  into  the 
room,  placing  her  gently  in  the  rose-ruffled  rocking- 
chair  as  if  it  were  a  throne  and  she  a  queen,  and  the 
poor  little  woman  sat  entranced,  with  tears  springing 
to  her  eyes  and  trickling  down  her  cheeks. 

Perhaps  it  was  an  impossibility  for  Margaret  to 
conceive  what  the  vision  of  that  room  meant  to 
Mom  Wallis.  The  realization  of  all  the  dreams  of 
a  starved  soul  concentrated  into  a  small  space; 
the  actual,  tangible  proof  that  there  might  be  a 
heaven  some  day — who  knew? — since  beauties  and 
comforts  like  these  could  be  real  in  Arizona. 

Margaret  brought  the  pictures  of  her  father  and 
mother,  of  her  dear  home  and  the  dear  old  church. 
She  took  her  about  the  room  and  showed  her  the 
various  pictures  and  reminders  of  her  college  days, 
and  when  she  saw  that  the  poor  creature  was  over- 
whelmed and  speechless  she  turned  her  about  and 
showed  her  the  great  mountain  again,  like  an  an- 
chorage for  her  soul. 

Mom  Wallis  looked  at  everything  speechlessly, 
gasping  as  her  attention  was  turned  from  one  ob- 
ject to  another,  as  if  she  were  unable  to  rise  beyond 
her  excitement;  but  when  she  saw  the  mountain 
again  her  tongue  was  loosed,  and  she  turned  and 
looked  back  at  the  girl  wonderingly. 

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A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"Now,  ain't  it  strange!  Even  that  old  mounting 
looks  diffrunt  —  it  do  look  diffrunt  from  a  room  like 
this.  Why,  it  looks  like  it  got  its  hair  combed  an' 
its  best  collar  on!"  And  Mom  Wallis  looked  down 
with  pride  and  patted  the  simple  net  ruffle  about 
her  withered  throat.  "Why,  it  looks  like  a  picter 
painted  an'  hung  up  on  this  yere  wall,  that's  what 
that  mounting  looks  like!  It  kinda  ain't  no  moun- 
ting any  more;  it's  jest  a  picter  in  your  room!" 

Margaret  smiled.  "It  is  a  picture,  isn't  it?  Just 
look  at  that  silver  light  over  the  purple  place.  Isn't 
it  wonderful?  I  like  to  think  it's  mine  —  my  moun- 
tain. And  yet  the  beautiful  thing  about  it  is  that 
it's  just  as  much  yours,  too.  It  will  make  a  picture 
of  itself  framed  in  your  bunk-house  window  if  you 
let  it.  Try  it.  You  just  need  to  let  it." 

Mom  Wallis  looked  at  her  wonderingly.  "Do 
you  mean,"  she  said,  studying  the  girl's  lovely  face, 
"that  ef  I  should  wash  them  there  bunk-house  win- 
ders, an'  string  up  some  posy  caliker,  an'  stuff  a 
chair,  an'  have  a  pin-cushion,  I  could  make  that 
there  mounting  come  in  an'  set  fer  me  like  a  picter 
the  way  it  does  here  fer  you?" 

"Yes,  that's  what  I  mean,"  said  Margaret,  softly, 
marveling  how  the  uncouth  woman  had  caught  the 
thought.  "That's  exactly  what  I  mean.  God's 
gifts  will  be  as  much  to  us  as  we  will  let  them,  al- 
ways. Try  it  and  see." 

Mom  Wallis  stood  for  some  minutes  looking  out 
reflectively  at  the  mountain.  "Wai,  mebbe  I'll  try 
it!"  she  said,  and  turned  back  to  survey  the  room 


And  now  the  mirror  caught  her  eye,  and  she  saw 

180 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

herself,  a  strange  self  in  a  soft  white  collar,  and  went 
up  to  get  a  nearer  view,  laying  a  toil-worn  finger  on 
the  lace  and  looking  half  embarrassed  at  sight  of 
her  own  face. 

"It's  a  real  purty  collar,"  she  said,  softly,  with  a 
choke  in  her  voice.  "It's  too  purty  fer  me.  I  told 
him  so,  but  he  said  as  how  you  wanted  I  should  dress 
up  every  night  fer  supper  in  it.  It's  'most  as  strange 
as  havin'  a  mounting  come  an'  live  with  you,  to 
wear  a  collar  like  that — me!" 

Margaret's  eyes  were  suddenly  bright  with  tears. 
Who  would  have  suspected  Mom  Wallis  of  having 
poetry  in  her  nature?  Then,  as  if  her  thoughts  an- 
ticipated the  question  hi  Margaret's  mind,  Mom 
Wallis  went  on: 

"He  brang  me  your  little  book,"  she  said.  "I 
ain't  goin'  to  say  thank  yeh,  it  ain't  a  big-'nuf  word. 
An'  he  read  me  the  poetry  words  it  says.  I  got  it 
wropped  in  a  hankercher  on  the  top  o'  the  beam  over 
my  bed.  I'm  goin'  to  have  it  buried  with  me  when 
I  die.  Oh,  I  read  it.  I  couldn't  make  much  out 
of  it,  but  I  read  the  words  Borough.  An'  then  he 
read  'em — the  Kid  did.  He  reads  just  beautiful. 
He's  got  education,  he  has.  He  read  it,  and  he  talked 
a  lot  about  it.  Was  this  what  you  mean?  Was 
it  that  we  ain't  really  growin'  old  at  all,  we're  jest 
goin'  on,  gettin'  there,  if  we  go  right?  Did  you  mean 
you  think  Him  as  planned  it  all  wanted  some  old 
woman  right  thar  in  the  bunk-house,  an'  it's  me? 
Did  you  mean  there  was  agoin'  to  be  a  chanct  fer 
me  to  be  young  an'  beautiful  somewheres  in  crea- 
tion yit,  'fore  I  git  through?" 

The  old  woman  had  turned  around  from  looking 

161 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

into  the  mirror  and  was  facing  her  hostess.  Her 
eyes  were  very  bright;  her  cheeks  had  taken  on  an 
excited  flush,  and  her  knotted  hands  were  clutching 
the  bureau.  She  looked  into  Margaret's  eyes  ear- 
nestly, as  though  her  very  life  depended  upon  the 
answer;  and  Margaret,  with  a  great  leap  of  her 
heart,  smiled  and  answered: 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Wallis,  yes,  that  is  just  what  I  meant. 
Listen,  these  are  God's  own  words  about  it:  'For  I 
reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are 
not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall 
be  revealed  in  us." 

A  kind  of  glory  shone  in  the  withered  old  face  now. 
"Did  you  say  them  was  God's  words?"  she  asked 
in  an  awed  voice. 

"Yes,"  said  Margaret;  "they  are  in  the  Bible." 

"But  you  couldn't  be  sure  it  meant  me?"  she 
asked,  eagerly.  "They  wouldn't  go  to  put  me  in 
the  Bible,  o'  course." 

"Oh  yes,  you  could  be  quite  sure,  Mrs.  Wallis," 
said  Margaret,  gently.  "Because  if  God  was  making 
you  and  had  a  plan  for  you,  as  the  poem  says,  He 
would  be  sure  to  put  down  something  in  His  book 
about  it,  don't  you  think?  He  would  want  you  to 
know." 

"It  does  sound  reasonable-like  now,  don't  it?" 
said  the  woman,  wistfully.  "Say  them  glory  words 
again,  won't  you?" 

Margaret  repeated  the  text  slowly  and  distinctly. 

"Glory!"  repeated  Mom  Wallis,  wonderingly. 
"Glory!  Me!"  and  turned  incredulously  toward 
the  glass.  She  looked  a  long  time  wistfully  at  her- 
self, as  if  she  could  not  believe  it,  and  pulled  re- 

162 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

proachfully  at  the  tight  hair  drawn  away  from  her 
weather-beaten  face.  "I  useta  have  purty  hair 
onct,"  she  said,  sadly. 

"Why,  you  have  pretty  hair  now!"  said  Margaret, 
eagerly.  "It  just  wants  a  chance  to  show  its  beauty, 
Here,  let  me  fix  it  for  dinner,  will  you?" 

She  whisked  the  bewildered  old  woman  into  a 
chair  and  began  unwinding  the  hard,  tight  knot  of 
hair  at  the  back  of  her  head  and  shaking  it  out. 
The  hair  was  thin  and  gray  now,  but  it  showed  signs 
of  having  been  fine  and  thick  once. 

"It's  easy  to  keep  your  hair  looking  pretty,"  said 
the  girl,  as  she  worked.  "I'm  going  to  give  you  a 
little  box  of  my  nice  sweet-smelling  soap-powder 
that  I  use  to  shampoo  my  hair.  You  take  it  home 
and  wash  your  hair  with  it  every  two  or  three  weeks 
and  you'll  see  it  will  make  a  difference  in  a  little 
while.  You  just  haven't  taken  time  to  take  care 
of  it,  that's  all.  Do  you  mind  if  I  wave  the  front 
here  a  little?  I'd  like  to  fix  your  hah*  the  way  my 
mother  wears  hers." 

Now  nothing  could  have  been  further  apart  than 
this  little  weather-beaten  old  woman  and  Margaret's 
gentle,  dove-like  mother,  with  her  abundant  soft 
gray  hair,  her  cameo  features,  and  her  pretty,  gray 
dresses;  but  Margaret  had  a  vision  of  what  glory 
might  bring  to  Mom  Wallis,  and  she  wanted  to  help 
it  along.  She  believed  that  heavenly  glory  can  be 
hastened  a  good  deal  on  earth  if  one  only  tries,  and 
so  she  set  to  work.  Glancing  out  the  window,  she  saw 
with  relief  that  Gardley  was  talking  interestedly 
with  Mr.  Tanner  and  seemed  entirely  content  with 
their  absence. 

163 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Mom  Wallis  hadn't  any  idea  what  "waving"  her 
hair  meant,  but  she  readily  consented  to  anything 
this  wonderful  girl  proposed,  and  she  sat  entranced, 
looking  at  her  mountain  and  thrilling  with  every 
touch  of  Margaret's  satin  fingers  against  her  leathery 
old  temples.  And  so,  Sunday  though  it  was,  Mar- 
garet lighted  her  little  alcohol-lamp  and  heated  a 
tiny  curling-iron  which  she  kept  for  emergencies. 
In  a  few  minutes'  time  Mom  Wallis' s  astonished  old 
gray  locks  lay  soft  and  fluffy  about  her  face,  and 
pinned  in  a  smooth  coil  behind,  instead  of  the  tight 
knot,  making  the  most  wonderful  difference  in  the 
world  in  her  old,  tired  face. 

"Now  look!"  said  Margaret,  and  turned  her 
about  to  the  mirror.  "If  there's  anything  at  all 
you  don't  like  about  it  I  can  change  it,  you  know. 
You  don't  have  to  wear  it  so  if  you  don't  like  it." 

The  old  woman  looked,  and  then  looked  back  at 
Margaret  with  frightened  eyes,  and  back  to  the 
vision  in  the  mirror  again. 

"My  soul!"  she  exclaimed  in  an  awed  voice. 
"My  soul!  It's  come  a'ready!  Glory!  I  didn't 
think  I  could  look  like  that!  I  wonder  what  Pop  ?d 
say!  My  land!  Would  you  mind  ef  I  kep'  it  on 
a  while  an'  wore  it  back  to  camp  this  way?  Pop 
might  uv  come  home  an'  I'd  like  to  see  ef  he'd  take 
notice  to  it.  I  used  to  be  purty  onct,  but  I  never 
expected  no  sech  thing  like  this  again  on  earth. 
Glory!  Glory!  Mebbe  I  could  get  some  glory,  too." 

"'The  glory  that  shall  be  revealed'  is  a  great  deal 
more  wonderful  than  this,"  said  Margaret,  gently. 
"This  was  here  all  the  time,  only  you  didn't  let  it 
come  out.  Wear  it  home  that  way,  of  course,  and 

164 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

wear  it  so  all  the  time.  It's  very  little  trouble,  and 
you'll  find  your  family  will  like  it.  Men  always 
like  to  see  a  woman  looking  her  best,  even  when  she's 
working.  It  helps  to  make  them  good.  Before  you 
go  home  I'll  show  you  how  to  fix  it.  It's  quite 
simple.  Come,  now,  shall  we  go  down-stairs?  We 
don't  want  to  leave  Mr.  Gardley  alone  too  long, 
and,  besides,  I  smell  the  dinner.  I  think  they'll  be 
waiting  for  us  pretty  soon.  I'm  going  to  take  a  few 
of  these  pictures  down  to  show  Mr.  Gardley." 

She  hastily  gathered  a  few  photographs  together 
and  led  the  bewildered  little  woman  down-stairs 
again,  and  out  in  the  yard,  where  Gardley  was  walk- 
ing up  and  down  now,  looking  off  at  the  mountain. 
It  came  to  Margaret,  suddenly,  that  the  minister 
would  be  returning  to  the  house  soon,  and  she 
wished  he  wouldn't  come.  He  would  be  a  false 
note  in  the  pleasant  harmony  of  the  little  company. 
He  would  be  disagreeable  to  manage,  and  perhaps 
hurt  poor  Mom  Wallis's  feelings.  Perhaps  he  had 
already  come.  She  looked  furtively  around  as  she 
came  out  the  door,  but  no  minister  was  in  sight, 
and  then  she  forgot  him  utterly  in  the  look  of  be- 
wildered astonishment  with  which  Gardley  was  re- 
garding Mom  Wallis. 

He  had  stopped  short  in  his  walk  across  the  little 
yard,  and  was  staring  at  Mom  Wallis,  recognition 
gradually  growing  in  his  gaze.  When  he  was  fully 
convinced  he  turned  his  eyes  to  Margaret,  as  if  to 
ask:  "How  did  you  do  it?  Wonderful  woman!"  and 
a  look  of  deep  reverence  for  her  came  over  his  face. 

Then  suddenly  he  noticed  the  shy  embarrassment 
on  the  old  woman's  face,  and  swiftly  came  toward 

165 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

her,  his  hands  outstretched,  and,  taking  her  bony  hands 
in  his,  bowed  low  over  them  as  a  courtier  might  do. 

"Mom  Wallis,  you  are  beautiful.  Did  you  know 
it?"  he  said,  gently,  and  led  her  to  a  little  stumpy 
rocking-chair  with  a  gay  red-and-blue  rag  cushion 
that  Mrs.  Tanner  always  kept  sitting  by  the  front 
door  in  pleasant  weather.  Then  he  stood  off  and 
surveyed  her,  while  the  red  stole  into  her  cheeks 
becomingly.  "What  has  Miss  Earle  been  doing  to 
glorify  you?"  he  asked,  again  looking  at  her  earnestly. 

The  old  woman  looked  at  him  hi  awed  silence. 
There  was  that  word  again — glory!  He  had  said 
the  girl  had  glorified  her.  There  was  then  some  glory 
in  her,  and  it  had  been  brought  out  by  so  simple  a 
thing  as  the  arrangement  of  her  hair.  It  frightened 
her,  and  tears  came  and  stood  in  her  tired  old  eyes. 

It  was  well  for  Mom  Wallis7 s  equilibrium  that  Mr. 
Tanner  came  out  just  then  with  the  paper  he  had 
gone  after,  for  the  stolidity  of  her  lifetime  was  about 
breaking  up.  But,  as  he  turned,  Gardley  gave  her 
one  of  the  rarest  smiles  of  sympathy  and  under- 
standing that  a  young  man  can  give  to  an  old  woman ; 
and  Margaret,  watching,  loved  him  for  it.  It  seemed 
to  her  one  of  the  most  beautiful  things  a  young  man 
had  ever  done. 

They  had  discussed  the  article  in  the  paper 
thoroughly,  and  had  looked  at  the  photographs  that 
Margaret  had  brought  down;  and  Mrs.  Tanner  had 
come  to  the  door  numberless  times,  looking  out  in  a 
troubled  way  down  the  road,  only  to  trot  back  again, 
look  in  the  oven,  peep  in  the  kettle,  sigh,  and  trot 
out  to  the  door  again.  At  last  she  cai&e  and  stood, 
-arms  akimbo,  and  looked  down  the  road  once  more- 

166 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

"Pa,  I  don't  just  see  how  I  can  keep  the  dinner 
waitin'  a  minute  longer,  The  potatoes  '11  be  spoiled. 
I  don't  see  what's  keepin'  that  preacher-man.  He 
must  a  been  invited  out,  though  I  don't  see  why  he 
didn't  send  me  word." 

"That's  it,  likely,  Ma,"  said  Tanner.  He  was 
growing  hungry.  "I  saw  Mis'  Bacon  talkin'  to  him. 
She's  likely  invited  him  there.  She's  always  tryin' 
to  get  ahead  o'  you,  Ma,  you  know,  'cause  you  got 
the  prize  fer  your  marble  cake." 

Mrs.  Tanner  blushed  and  looked  down  apolo- 
getically at  her  guests.  "Well,  then,  ef  you'll  just 
come  in  and  set  down,  I'll  dish  up.  My  land! 
Ain't  that  Bud  comin'  down  the  road,  Pa?  He's 
likely  sent  word  by  Bud.  I'll  hurry  in  an'  dish  up." 

Bud  slid  into  his  seat  hurriedly  after  a  brief  ablu- 
tion in  the  kitchen,  and  his  mother  questioned  him 
sharply. 

"Bud,  wher  you  be'n?  Did  the  minister  get  in- 
vited out?" 

The  boy  grinned  and  slowly  winked  one  eye  at 
Gardley.  "Yes,  he's  invited  out,  all  right,"  he  said, 
meaningly.  "You  don't  need  to  wait  fer  him.  He 
won't  be  home  fer  some  time,  I  don't  reckon." 

Gardley  looked  keenly,  steadily,  at  the  boy's  danc- 
ing eyes,  and  resolved  to  have  a  fuller  understand- 
ing later,  and  his  own  eyes  met  the  boy's  in  a  gleam 
of  mischief  and  sympathy. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  twenty  years  that  Mom 
Wallis  had  eaten  anything  which  she  had  not  pre- 
pared herself,  and  now,  with  fried  chicken  and  com- 
pany preserves  before  her,  she  could  scarcely  swal- 
low a  mouthful.  To  be  seated  beside  Gardley  and 

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A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

waited  on  like  a  queen!  To  be  smiled  at  by  the 
beautiful  young  girl  across  the  table,  and  deferred 
to  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tanner  as  "Mrs.  Wallis,"  and 
asked  to  have  more  pickles  and  another  helping  of 
jelly,  and  did  she  take  cream  and  sugar  in  her  coffee! 
It  was  too  much,  and  Mom  Wallis  was  struggling 
with  the  tears.  Even  Bud's  round,  blue  eyes  re- 
garded her  with  approval  and  interest.  She  couldn't 
help  thinking,  if  her  own  baby  boy  had  lived,  would 
he  ever  have  been  like  Bud?  And  once  she  smiled 
at  him,  and  Bud  smiled  back,  a  real  boy-like,  frank, 
hearty  grin.  It  was  all  like  taking  dinner  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  to  Mom  Wallis,  and  getting 
glory  aforetime. 

It  was  a  wonderful  afternoon,  and  seemed  to  go 
on  swift  wings.  Gardley  went  back  to  the  school- 
house,  where  the  horses  had  been  left,  and  Bud  went 
with  him  to  give  further  particulars  about  that  wink 
at  the  dinner-table.  Mom  Wallis  went  up  to  the 
rose-garlanded  room  and  learned  how  to  wash  her 
hair,  and  received  a  roll  of  flowered  scrim  wherewith 
to  make  curtains  for  the  bunk-house.  Margaret 
had  originally  intended  it  for  the  school-house  win- 
dows in  case  it  proved  necessary  to  make  that  place 
habitable,  but  the  school-room  could  wait. 

And  there  in  the  rose-room,  with  the  new  curtains 
in  her  trembling  hands,  and  the  great  old  mountain 
in  full  view,  Mom  Wallis  knelt  beside  the  little  gay 
rocking-chair,  while  Margaret  knelt  beside  her  and 
prayed  that  the  Heavenly  Father  would  show  Mom 
Wallis  how  to  let  the  glory  be  revealed  in  her  now 
on  the  earth. 

Then  Mom  Wallis  wiped  the  furtive  tears  away 

168 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

with  her  calico  sleeve,  tied  on  her  funny  old  bonnet, 
and  rode  away  with  her  handsome  young  escort  into 
the  silence  of  the  desert,  with  the  glory  beginning  to 
be  revealed  already  in  her  countenance. 

Quite  late  that  evening  the  minister  returned. 

He  came  in  slowly  and  wearily,  as  if  every  step 
were  a  pain  to  him,  and  he  avoided  the  light.  His 
coat  was  torn  and  his  garments  were  mud-covered. 
He  murmured  of  a  " slight  accident"  to  Mrs.  Tan- 
ner, who  met  him  solicitously  in  a  flowered  dressing- 
gown  with  a  candle  in  her  hand.  He  accepted 
greedily  the  half  a  pie,  with  cheese  and  cold  chicken 
and  other  articles,  she  proffered  on  a  plate  at  his  door, 
and  in  the  reply  to  her  query  as  to  where  he  had 
been  for  dinner,  and  if  he  had  a  pleasant  time,  he 
said: 

"Very  pleasant,  indeed,  thank  you!  The  name? 
Um — ah — I  disremember!  I  really  didn't  ask — 
That  is—" 

The  minister  did  not  get  up  to  breakfast,  In  fact, 
he  remained  in  bed  for  several  days,  professing  to 
be  suffering  with  an  attack  of  rheumatism.  He  was 
solicitously  watched  over  and  fed  by  the  anxious 
Mrs.  Tanner,  who  was  much  disconcerted  at  the 
state  of  affairs,  and  couldn't  understand  why  she 
could  not  get  the  school-teacher  more  interested  in 
the  invalid. 

On  the  fourth  day,  however,  the  Reverend  Fred- 
erick crept  forth,  white  and  shaken,  with  his  sleek 
hair  elaborately  combed  to  cover  a  long  scratch 
on  his  forehead,  and  announced  his  intention  of  de- 
parting from  fche  State  of  Arizona  that  evening. 

He  crept  forth  cautiously  to  the  station  as  the 

169 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

shades  of  evening  drew  on,  but  found  Long  Bill 
awaiting  him,  and  Jasper  Kemp  not  far  away.  He 
had  the  two  letters  ready  in  his  pocket,  with  the 
gold  piece,  though  he  had  entertained  hopes  of  es- 
caping without  forfeiting  them,  but  he  was  obliged 
to  wait  patiently  until  Jasper  Kemp  had  read  both 
letters  through  twice,  with  the  train  in  momentary 
danger  of  departing  without  him,  before  he  was 
finally  allowed  to  get  on  board.  Jasper  Kemp's 
parting  word  to  him  was: 

"  Watch  your  steps  spry,  parson.  I'm  agoin'  to 
see  that  you're  shadowed  wherever  you  go.  You 
needn't  think  you  can  get  shy  on  the  Bible  again. 
It  won't  pay." 

There  was  menace  in  the  dry  remark,  and  the 
Reverend  Frederick's  professional  egotism  withered 
before  it.  He  bowed  his  head,  climbed  on  beard 
the  train,  and  vanished  from  the  scene  of  his  recent 
discomfiture.  But  the  bitterest  thing  about  it  all 
was  that  he  had  gone  without  capturing  the  heart 
or  even  the  attention  of  that  haughty  little  school- 
teacher. "And  she  was  such  a  pretty  girl,"  he  said, 
regretfully,  to  himself.  "Such  a  very  pretty  girl!" 
He  sighed  deeply  to  himself  as  he  watched  Arizona 
speed  by  the  window.  "Still,"  he  reflected,  com- 
fortably, after  a  moment,  "there  are  always  plenty 
more!  What  was  that  remarkably  witty  saying  I 
heard  just  before  I  left  home?  '  Never  run  after  a 
street-car  or  a  woman.  There'll  be  another  one 
along  in  a  minute.'  Um — ah — yes — very  true — • 
there'll  be  another  one  along  in  a  minute." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SCHOOL  had  settled  down  to  real  work  by  the 
opening  of  the  new  week.  Margaret  knew  her 
scholars  and  had  gained  a  personal  hold  on  most  of 
them  already.  There  was  enough  novelty  in  her 
teaching  to  keep  the  entire  school  in  a  pleasant  state 
of  excitement  and  wonder  as  to  what  she  would  do 
next,  and  the  word  had  gone  out  through  all  the 
country  round  about  that  the  new  teacher  had 
taken  the  school  by  storm.  It  was  not  infrequent 
for  men  to  turn  out  of  their  way  on  the  trail  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  the  school  as  they  were  passing,  just 
to  make  sure  the  reports  were  true.  Rumor  stated 
that  the  teacher  was  exceedingly  pretty;  that  she 
would  take  no  nonsense,  not  even  from  the  big  boys; 
'that  she  never  threatened  nor  punished,  but  that 
every  one  of  the  boys  was  her  devoted  slave.  There 
had  been  no  uprising,  and  it  almost  seemed  as  if 
that  popular  excitement  was  to  be  omitted  this 
season,  and  school  was  to  sail  along  in  an  orderly  and 
proper  manner.  In  fact,  the  entire  school  as  well 
as  the  surrounding  population  were  eagerly  talking 
about  the  new  piano,  which  seemed  really  to  be  a 
coming  fact.  Not  that  there  had  been  anything 
done  toward  it  yet,  but  the  teacher  had  promised 

171 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

that  just  as  soon  as  every  one  was  really  studying 
hard  and  doing  his  best,  she  was  going  to  begin  to 
get  them  ready  for  an  entertainment  to  raise  money 
for  that  piano.  They  couldn't  begin  until  every- 
body was  in  good  working  order,  because  they  didn't 
want  to  take  the  interest  away  from  the  real  busi- 
ness of  school;  but  it  was  going  to  be  a  Shakespeare 
play,  whatever  that  was,  and  therefore  of  grave  im- 
port. Some  people  talked  learnedly  about  Shake- 
speare and  hinted  of  poetry;  but  the  main  part  of  the 
community  spoke  the  name  joyously  and  familiarly 
and  without  awe,  as  if  it  were  milk  and  honey  in 
then*  mouths.  Why  should  they  reverence  Shake- 
speare more  than  any  one  else? 

Margaret  had  grown  used  to  seeing  a  head  appear 
suddenly  at  one  of  the  school-room  windows  and 
look  long  and  frowningly  first  at  her,  then  at  the 
school,  and  then  back  to  her  again,  as  if  it  were  a 
nine  days'  wonder.  Whoever  the  visitor  was,  he 
would  stand  quietly,  watching  the  process  of  the 
hour  as  if  he  were  at  a  play,  and  Margaret  would 
turn  and  smile  pleasantly,  then  go  right  on  with 
her  work.  The  visitor  would  generally  take  off  a 
wide  hat  and  wave  it  cordially,  smile  back  a  curious, 
softened  smile,  and  by  and  by 'he  would  mount  his 
horse  and  pass  on  reflectively  down  the  trail,  wishing 
he  could  be  a  boy  and  go  back  again  to  school — 
such  a  school! 

Oh,  it  was  not  all  smooth,  the  way  that  Margaret 
walked.  There  were  hitches,  and  unpleasant  days 
when  nothing  went  right,  and  when  some  of  the 
girls  got  silly  and  rebellious,  and  the  boys  followed 
in  their  lead.  She  had  her  trials  like  any  teacher, 

172 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

skilful  as  she  was,  and  not  the  least  of  them  became 
Rosa  Rogers,  the  petted  beauty,  who  presently 
manifested  a  childish  jealousy  of  her  in  her  influence 
over  the  boys.  Noting  this,  Margaret  went  out  of 
her  way  to  win  Rosa,  but  found  it  a  difficult  matter. 

Rosa  was  proud,  selfish,  and  unprincipled.  She 
never  forgave  any  one  who  frustrated  her  plans. 
She  resented  being  made  to  study  like  the  rest. 
She  had  always  compelled  the  teacher  to  let  her  do 
as  she  pleased  and  still  give  her  a  good  report. 
This  she  found  she  could  not  do  with  Margaret,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  her  career  she  was  compelled  to 
work  or  fall  behind.  It  presently  became  not  a 
question  of  how  the  new  teacher  was  to  manage  the 
big  boys  and  the  bad  boys  of  the  Ashland  Ridge 
School,  but  how  she  was  to  prevent  Rosa  Rogers 
and  a  few  girls  who  followed  her  from  upsetting  all 
her  plans.  The  trouble  was,  Rosa  was  pretty  and 
knew  her  power  over  the  boys.  If  she  chose  she 
could  put  them  all  in  a  state  of  insubordination,  and 
this  she  chose  very  often  during  those  first  few  weeks. 

But  there  was  one  visitor  who  did  not  confine 
himself  to  looking  in  at  the  window. 

One  morning  a  fine  black  horse  came  galloping  up 
to  the  school-house  at  recess-time,  and  a  well-set-up 
young  man  in  wide  sombrero  and  jaunty  leather 
trappings  sprang  off  and  came  into  the  building. 
His  shining  spurs  caught  the  sunlight  and  flashed 
as  he  moved.  He  walked  with  the  air  of  one  who 
regards  himself  of  far  more  importance  than  all  who 
may  be  watching  him.  The  boys  in  the  yard 
stopped  their  ball-game,  and  the  girls  huddled  close 
in  whispering  groups  and  drew  near  to  the  door. 
12  173 


A    VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

He  was  a  young  man  from  a  ranch  near  the  fort 
some  thirty  miles  away,  and  he  had  brought  an 
invitation  for  the  new  school-teacher  to  come  over 
to  dinner  on  Friday  evening  and  stay  until  the  fol- 
lowing Monday  morning.  The  invitation  was  from 
his  sister,  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  cattleman  whose 
home  and  hospitality  were  noted  for  miles  around. 
She  had  heard  of  the  coming  of  the  beautiful  young 
teacher,  and  wanted  to  attach  her  to  her  social 
circle. 

The  young  man  was  deference  itself  to  Margaret, 
openly  admiring  her  as  he  talked,  and  said  the  most 
gracious  things  to  her;  and  then,  while  she  was 
answering  the  note,  he  smiled  over  at  Rosa  Rogers, 
who  had  slipped  into  her  seat  and  was  studiously 
preparing  her  algebra  with  the  book  upside  down. 

Margaret,  looking  up,  caught  Rosa's  smiling 
glance  and  the  tail  end  of  a  look  from  the  young 
man's  eyes,  and  felt  a  passing  wonder  whether  he 
had  ever  met  the  girl  before.  Something  in  the 
boldness  of  his  look  made  her  feel  that  he  had 
not.  Yet  he  was  all  smiles  and  deference  to  herself, 
and  his  open  admiration  and  pleasure  that  she  was 
to  come  to  help  brighten  this  lonely  country,  and  that 
she  was  going  to  accept  the  invitation,  was  really 
pleasant  to  the  girl,  for  it  was  desolate  being  tied 
down  to  only  the  Tanner  household  and  the  school, 
and  she  welcomed  any  bit  of  social  life. 

The  young  man  had  light  hair,  combed  very 
smooth,  and  light-blue  eyes.  They  were  bolder  and 
handsomer  than  the  minister's,  but  the  girl  had  a 
feeling  that  they  were  the  very  same  cold  color. 
She  wondered  at  her  comparison,  for  she  liked  the 

174 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

handsome  young  man,  and  in  spite  of  herself  was 
a  little  flattered  at  the  nice  things  he  had  said  to 
her.  Nevertheless,  when  she  remembered  him  after- 
ward it  was  always  with  that  uncomfortable  feeling 
that  if  he  hadn't  been  so  handsome  and  polished  in 
his  appearance  he  would  have  seemed  just  a  little 
bit  like  that  minister,  and  she  couldn't  for  the  life 
of  her  tell  why. 

After  he  was  gone  she  looked  back  at  Rosa,  and 
there  was  a  narrowing  of  the  girl's  eyes  and  a  frown 
of  hate  on  her  brows.  Margaret  turned  with  a  sigK 
back  to  her  school  problem — what  to  do  with  Rosa 
Rogers? 

But  Rosa  did  not  stay  in  the  school-house.  She 
slipped  out  and  walked  arm  in  arm  with  Amanda 
Bounds  down  the  road. 

Margaret  went  to  the  door  and  watched.  Pres- 
ently she  saw  the  rider  wheel  and  come  galloping 
back  to  the  door.  He  had  forgotten  to  tell  her  that 
an  escort  would  be  sent  to  bring  her  as  early  on 
Friday  afternoon  as  she  would  be  ready  to  leave  the 
school,  and  he  intimated  that  he  hoped  he  might 
be  detailed  for  that  pleasant  duty. 

Margaret  looked  into  his  face  and  warmed  to  his 
pleasant  smile.  How  could  she  have  thought  him 
like  West?  He  touched  his  hat  and  rode  away, 
and  a  moment  later  she  saw  him  draw  rein  beside 
Rosa  and  Amanda,  and  presently  dismount. 

Bud  rang  the  bell  just  then,  and  Margaret  went 
back  to  her  desk  with  a  lingering  look  at  the  three 
figures  in  the  distance.  It  was  full  half  an  hour 
before  Rosa  came  in,  with  Amanda  looking  scared 
behind  her;  and  troubled  Margaret  watched  the  sly 

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A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

look  in  the  girl's  eyes  and  wondered  what  she  ought 
to  do  about  it.  As  Rosa  was  passing  out  of  the 
door  after  school  she  called  her  to  the  desk. 

"You  were  late  in  coming  in  after  recess,  Rosa," 
said  Margaret,  gently.  "Have  you  any  excuse?" 

"I  was  talking  to  a  friend,"  said  Rosa,  with  a 
toss  of  her  head  which  said,  as  plainly  as  words  could 
have  done,  "I  don't  intend  to  give  an  excuse." 

"Were  you  talking  to  the  gentleman  who  was 
here?" 

"Well,  if  I  was,  what  is  that  to  you,  Miss  Earle?" 
said  Rosa,  haughtily.  "Did  you  think  you  could 
have  all  the  men  and  boys  to  yourself?" 

"Rosa,"  said  Margaret,  trying  to  speak  calmly, 
but  her  voice  trembling  with  suppressed  indignation, 
"don't  talk  that  way  to  me.  Child,  did  you  ever 
meet  Mr.  Forsythe  before?" 

"I'm  not  a  child,  and  it's  none  of  your  business!" 
flouted  Rosa,  angrily,  and  she  twitched  away  and 
flung  herself  out  of  the  school-house. 

Margaret,  trembling  from  the  disagreeable  en- 
counter, stood  at  the  window  and  watched  the  girl 
going  down  the  road,  and  felt  for  the  moment  that 
she  would  rather  give  up  her  school  and  go  back 
home  than  face  the  situation.  She  knew  in  her  heart 
that  this  girl,  once  an  enemy,  would  be  a  bitter  one, 
and  this  her  last  move  had  been  a  most  unfortunate 
one,  coming  out,  as  it  did,  with  Rosa  in  the  lead. 
She  could,  of  course,  complain  to  Rosa's  family,  or 
to  the  school-board,  but  such  was  not  the  policy 
she  had  chosen.  She  wanted  to  be  able  to  settle 
her  own  difficulties.  It  seemed  strange  that  she 
could  not  reach  this  one  girl — who  was  in  a  way 

176 


\   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

the  key  to  the  situation.  Perhaps  the  play  would 
be  able  to  help  her.  She  spent  a  long  time  that 
evening  going  over  the  different  plays  in  her  library, 
and  finally,  with  a  look  of  apology  toward  a  little 
photographed  head  of  Shakespeare,  she  decided  on 
"Midsummer-Night's  Dream."  What  if  it  was 
away  above  the  heads  of  them  all,  wouldn't  a  few 
get  something  from  it?  And  wasn't  it  better  to  take 
a  great  thing  and  try  to  make  her  scholars  and  a  few 
of  the  community  understand  it,  rather  than  to  take 
a  silly  little  play  that  would  not  amount  to  anything 
in  the  end?  Of  course,  they  couldn't  do  it  well; 
that  went  without  saying.  Of  course  it  would  be 
away  beyond  them  all,  but  at  least  it  would  be  a 
study  of  something  great  for  her  pupils,  and  she 
could  meantime  teach  them  a  little  about  Shake- 
speare and  perhaps  help  some  of  them  to  learn  to 
love  his  plays  and  study  them. 

The  play  she  had  selected  was  one  hi  which  she 
herself  had  acted  the  part  of  Puck,  and  she  knew 
it  by  heart.  She  felt  reasonably  sure  that  she  could 
help  some  of  the  more  adaptable  scholars  to  inter- 
pret their  parts,  and,  at  least,  it  would  be  good 
for  them  just  as  a  study  in  literature.  As  for  the 
audience,  they  would  not  be  critics.  Perhaps  they 
( would  not  even  be  able  to  comprehend  the  meaning 
of  the  play,  but  they  would  come  and  they  would 
listen,  and  the  experiment  was  one  worth  trying. 

Carefully  she  went  over  the  parts,  trying  to  find 
the  one  which  she  thought  would  best  fit  Rosa 
Rogers,  and  please  her  as  well,  because  it  gave  her 
opportunity  to  display  her  beauty  and  charm.  She 
really  was  a  pretty  girl,  and  would  do  well.  Mar- 

177 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

garet  wondered  whether  she  were  altogether  right 
in  attempting  to  win  the  girl  through  her  vanity, 
and  yet  what  other  weak  place  was  there  in  which 
to  storm  the  silly  little  citadel  of  her  soul? 

And  so  the  work  of  assigning  parts  and  learning 
them  began  that  very  week,  though  no  one  was  al- 
lowed a  part  until  his  work  for  the  day  had  all 
been  handed  in. 

At  noon  Margaret  made  one  more  attempt  with 
Rosa  Rogers.  She  drew  her  to  a  seat  beside  her 
and  put  aside  as  much  as  possible  her  own  remem- 
brance of  the  girl's  disagreeable  actions  and  im- 
pudent words. 

"Rosa,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  very  gentle, 
"I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you.  You  seem 
to  feel  that  you  and  I  are  enemies,  and  I  don't  want 
you  to  have  that  attitude.  I  hoped  we'd  be  the 
best  of  friends.  You  see,  there  isn't  any  other  way 
for  us  to  work  well  together.  And  I  want  to  explain 
why  I  spoke  to  you  as  I  did  yesterday.  It  was  not, 
as  you  hinted,  that  I  want  to  keep  all  my  acquaint- 
ances to  myself.  I  have  no  desire  to  do  that.  It 
was  because  I  feel  responsible  for  the  girls  and  boys 
in  my  care,  and  I  was  troubled  lest  perhaps  you  had 
been  foolish — " 

Margaret  paused.  She  could  see  by  the  bright 
hardness  of  the  girl's  eyes  that  she  was  accom- 
plishing nothing.  Rosa  evidently  did  not  believe 
her. 

"Well,  Rosa,"  she  said,  suddenly,  putting  an  im- 
pulsive, kindly  hand  on  the  girl's  arm,  "suppose  we 
forget  it  this  time,  put  it  all  away,  and  be  friends. 
Let's  learn  to  understand  each  other  if  we  can,  but 

178 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

in  the  mean  time  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  the 
play." 

And  then,  indeed,  Rosa's  hard  manner  broke,  and 
she  looked  up  with  interest,  albeit  there  was  some 
suspicion  in  the  glance.  She  wanted  to  be  in  that 
play  with  all  her  heart;  she  wanted  the  very  showiest 
part  in  it,  too;  and  she  meant  to  have  it,  although 
she  had  a  strong  suspicion  that  the  teacher  would 
want  to  keep  that  part  for  herself,  whatever  it  was. 

But  Margaret  had  been  wise.  She  had  decided 
to  take  tune  and  explain  the  play  to  her,  and  then 
let  her  choose  her  own  part.  She  wisely  judged  that 
Rosa  would  do  better  in  the  part  in  which  her  in- 
terest centered,  and  perhaps  the  choice  would  help 
her  to  understand  her  pupil  better. 

And  so  for  an  hour  she  patiently  stayed  after 
school  and  went  over  the  play,  explaining  it  carefully, 
and  it  seemed  at  one  time  as  though  Rosa  was  about 
to  choose  to  be  Puck,  because  with  quick  perception 
she  caught  the  importance  of  that  character;  but 
when  she  learned  that  the  costume  must  be  a  quiet 
hood  and  skirt  of  green  and  brown  she  scorned  it, 
and  chose,  at  last,  to  be  Titania,  queen  of  the 
fairies.  So,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  a  keen  insight 
into  the  shallow  nature,  Margaret  began  to  teach 
the  girl  some  of  the  fairy  steps,  and  found  her  quick 
and  eager  to  learn.  In  the  first  lesson  Rosa  forgot 
I  for  a  little  while  her  animosity  and  became  almost 
'  as  one  of  the  other  pupils.  The  play  was  going  to 
prove  a  great  means  of  bringing  them  all  together. 

Before  Friday  afternoon  came  the  parts  had  all 
been  assigned  and  the  plans  for  the  entertainment 
were  well  under  way. 

179 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Jed  and  Timothy  had  been  as  good  as  their  word 
about  giving  the  teacher  riding-lessons,  each  vying 
with  the  other  to  bring  a  horse  and  make  her  ride 
at  noon  hour,  and  she  had  already  had  several  good 
lessons  and  a  long  ride  or  two  in  company  with  both 
her  teachers. 

The  thirty-mile  ride  for  Friday,  then,  was  not  such 
an  undertaking  as  it  might  otherwise  have  been, 
and  Margaret  looked  forward  to  it  with  eagerness. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HP  HE  little  party  of  escort  arrived  before  school 
A  was  closed  on  Friday  afternoon,  and  came  down 
to  the  school-house  in  full  force  to  take  her  away 
with  them.  The  young  man  Forsy the,  with  his  sister, 
the  hostess  herself,  and  a  young  army  officer  from 
the  fort,  comprised  the  party.  Margaret  dismissed 
school  ten  minutes  early  and  went  back  with  them  to 
the  Tanners'  to  make  a  hurried  change  in  her  dress 
and  pick  up  her  suit-case,  which  was  already  packed. 
As  they  rode  away  from  the  school-house  Margaret 
looked  back  and  saw  Rosa  Rogers  posing  in  one  of 
her  sprite  dances  in  the  school-yard,  saw  her  kiss  her 
hand  laughingly  toward  their  party,  and  saw  the 
flutter  of  a  handkerchief  in  young  Forsythe's  hand. 
It  was  all  very  general  and  elusive,  a  passing  bit  of 
fun,  but  it  left  an  uncomfortable  impression  on  the 
teacher's  mind.  She  looked  keenly  at  the  young 
man  as  he  rode  up  smiling  beside  her,  and  once 
more  experienced  that  strange,  sudden  change  of 
feeling  about  him. 

She  took  opportunity  during  that  long  ride  to  find 
out  if  the  young  man  had  known  Rosa  Rogers  be- 
fore; but  he  frankly  told  her  that  he  had  just 
come  West  to  visit  his  sister,  was  bored  to  death 
because  he  didn't  know  a  soul  in  the  whole  State, 

181 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

and  until  he  had  seen  her  had  not  laid  eyes  on  one 
whom  he  cared  to  know.  Yet  while  she  could  not 
help  enjoying  the  gay  badinage,  she  carried  a  sense 
of  uneasiness  whenever  she  thought  of  the  young 
girl  Rosa  in  her  pretty  fairy  pose,  with  her  fluttering 
pink  fingers  and  her  saucy,  smiling  eyes.  There 
was  something  untrustworthy,  too,  in  the  handsome 
face  of  the  man  beside  her. 

There  was  just  one  shadow  over  this  bit  of  a 
holiday.  Margaret  had  a  little  feeling  that  possibly 
some  one  from  the  camp  might  come  down  on  Sat- 
urday or  Sunday,  and  she  would  miss  him.  Yet 
nothing  had  been  said  about  it,  and  she  had  no 
way  of  sending  word  that  she  would  be  away.  She 
had  meant  to  send  Mom  Wallis  a  letter  by  the  next 
messenger  that  came  that  way.  It  was  all  written 
and  lying  on  her  bureau,  but  no  one  had  been  down 
all  the  week.  She  was,  therefore,  greatly  pleased 
when  an  approaching  rider  in  the  distance  proved 
to  be  Gardley,  and  with  a  joyful  little  greeting  she 
drew  rein  and  hailed  him,  giving  him  a  message  for 
Mom  Wallis. 

Only  Gardley 's  eyes  told  what  this  meeting  was 
to  him.  His  demeanor  was  grave  and  dignified. 
He  acknowledged  the  introductions  to  the  rest  of 
the  party  gracefully,  touched  his  hat  with  the  ease 
of  one  to  the  manner  born,  and  rode  away,  flashing 
her  one  gleam  of  a  smile  that  told  her  he  was  glad 
of  the  meeting;  but  throughout  the  brief  interview 
there  had  been  an  air  of  question  and  hostility  be- 
tween the  two  men,  Forsythe  and  Gardley.  Forsythe 
surveyed  Gardley  rudely,  almost  insolently,  as  if 
his  position  beside  the  lady  gave  him  rights  beyond 

182 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

the  other,  and  he  resented  the  coming  of  the  stranger. 
Gardley's  gaze  was  cold,  too,  as  he  met  the  look,  and 
his  eyes  searched  Forsythe's  face  keenly,  as  though 
they  would  find  out  what  manner  of  man  was  riding 
with  his  friend. 

When  he  was  gone  Margaret  had  the  feeling  that 
he  was  somehow  disappointed,  and  once  she  turned 
in  the  saddle  and  looked  wistfully  after  him;  but 
he  was  riding  furiously  into  the  distance,  sitting 
his  horse  as  straight  as  an  arrow  and  already  far 
away  upon  the  desert. 

"Your  friend  is  a  reckless  rider/'  said  Forsythe, 
with  a  sneer  in  his  voice  that  Margaret  did  not  like, 
as  they  watched  the  speck  in  the  distance  clear  a 
steep  descent  from  the  mesa  at  a  bound  and  disappear 
from  sight  in  the  mesquite  beyond. 

"Isn't  he  fine-looking?  Where  did  you  find  him, 
Miss  Earle?"  asked  Mrs.  Temple,  eagerly.  "I  wish 
I'd  asked  him  to  join  us.  He  left  so  suddenly  I 
didn't  realize  he  was  going." 

Margaret  felt  a  wondering  and  pleasant  sense  of 
possession  and  pride  in  Gardley  as  she  watched,  but 
she  quietly  explained  that  the  young  stranger  was 
from  the  East,  and  that  he  was  engaged  in  some  kind 
of  cattle  business  at  a  distance  from  Ashland.  Her 
manner  was  reserved,  and  the  matter  dropped.  She 
naturally  felt  a  reluctance  to  tell  how  her  acquaint- 
ance with  Gardley  began.  It  seemed  something  be- 
tween themselves.  She  could  fancy  the  gushing 
Mrs.  Temple  saying,  "How  romantic!"  She  was 
that  kind  of  a  woman.  It  was  evident  that  she  was 
romantically  inclined  herself,  for  she  used  her  fine 
eyes  with  effect  on  the  young  officer  who  rode  with 

183 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

her,  and  Margaret  found  herself  wondering  what 
kind  of  a  husband  she  had  and  what  her  mother 
would  think  of  a  woman  like  this. 

There  was  no  denying  that  the  luxury  of  the  ranch 
was  a  happy  relief  from  the  simplicity  of  life  at 
the  Tanners'.  Iced  drinks  and  cushions  and  easy- 
chairs,  feasting  and  music  and  laughter!  There 
were  books,  too,  and  magazines,  and  all  the  little 
things  that  go  to  make  up  a  cultured  life;  and  yet 
they  were  not  people  of  Margaret's  world,  and  when 
Saturday  evening  was  over  she  sat  alone  in  the 
room  they  had  given  her  and,  facing  herself  in  the 
glass,  confessed  to  herself  that  she  looked  back 
with  more  pleasure  to  the  Sabbath  spent  with  Mom 
Wallis  than  she  could  look  forward  to  a  Sabbath 
here.  The  morning  proved  her  forebodings  well 
founded. 

Breakfast  was  a  late,  informal  affair,  filled  with 
hilarious  gaiety.  There  was  no  mention  of  any 
church  service,  and  Margaret  found  it  was  quite  too 
late  to  suggest  such  a  thing  when  breakfast  was  over, 
even  if  she  had  been  sure  there  was  any  service. 

After  breakfast  was  over  there  were  various  forms 
of  amusement  proposed  for  her  pleasure,  and  she 
really  felt  very  much  embarrassed  for  a  few  mo- 
ments to  know  how  to  avoid  what  to  her  was  pure 
Sabbath-breaking.  Yet  she  did  not  wish  to  be 
rude  to  these  people  who  were  really  trying  to  be 
kind  to  her.  She  managed  at  last  to  get  them  in- 
terested in  music,  and,  grouping  them  around  the 
piano  after  a  few  preliminary  performances  by  her- 
self at  their  earnest  solicitation,  coaxed  them  into 
singing  hymns. 

184 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

After  all,  they  really  seemed  to  enjoy  it,  though 
they  had  to  get  along  with  one  hymn-book  for  the 
whole  company;  but  Margaret  knew  how  to  make 
hymn-singing  interesting,  and  her  exquisite  voice 
was  never  more  at  its  best  than  when  she  led  off 
with  "My  Jesus,  as  Thou  Wilt,"  or  "Jesus,  Saviour, 
Pilot  Me." 

"You  would  be  the  delight  of  Mr.  Brownleigh's 
heart,"  said  the  hostess,  gushingly,  at  last,  after  Mar- 
garet had  finished  singing  "Abide  With  Me"  with 
wonderful  feeling. 

"And  who  is  Mr.  Brownleigh?"  asked  Margaret. 
"Why  should  I  delight  his  heart?" 

"Why,  he  is  our  missionary — that  is,  the  mission- 
ary for  this  region — and  you  would  delight  his  heart 
because  you  are  so  religious  and  sing  so  well,"  said 
the  superficial  little  woman.  "Mr.  Brownleigh  is 
really  a  very  cultured  man.  Of  course,  he's  narrow. 
All  clergymen  are  narrow,  don't  you  think?  They 
have  to  be  to  a  certain  extent.  He's  really  quite 
narrow.  Why,  he  believes  in  the  Bible  literally,  the 
whale  and  Jonah,  and  the  Flood,  and  making  bread 
out  of  stones,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know. 
Imagine  it!  But  he  does.  He's  sincere!  Per- 
fectly sincere.  I  suppose  he  has  to  be.  It's  his 
business.  But  sometimes  one  feels  it  a  pity  that  he 
can't  relax  a  little,  just  among  us  here,  you  know. 
We'd  never  tell.  Why,  he  won't  even  play  a  little 
game  of  poker!  And  he  doesn't  smoke!  Imagine 
it — not  even  when  he's  by  himself ',  and  no  one  would 
know!  Isn't  that  odd?  But  he  can  preach.  He's 
really  very  interesting;  only  a  little  too  Utopian  in 
his  ideas.  He  thinks  everybody  ought  to  be  good, 

185 


A    VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

you  know,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  He  really 
thinks  it's  possible,  and  he  lives  that  way  himself. 
He  really  does.  But  he  is  a  wonderful  person;  only 
I  feel  sorry  for  his  wife  sometimes.  She's  quite  a 
cultured  person.  Has  been  wealthy,  you  know. 
She  was  a  New  York  society  girl.  Just  imagine  it; 
out  in  these  wilds  taking  gruel  to  the  dirty  little 
Indians!  How  she  ever  came  to  do  it!  Of  course 
she  adores  him,  but  I  can't  really  believe  she  is 
happy.  No  woman  could  be  quite  blind  enough  to 
give  up  everything  in  the  world  for  one  man,  no 
matter  how  good  he  was.  Do  you  think  she  could? 
It  wasn't  as  if  she  didn't  have  plenty  of  other 
chances.  She  gave  them  all  up  to  come  out  and 
marry  him.  She's  a  pretty  good  sport,  too;  she 
never  lets  you  know  she  isn't  perfectly  happy." 

"She  is  happy;  mother,  she's  happier  than  any- 
body I  ever  saw,"  declared  the  fourteen-year-old 
daughter  of  the  house,  who  was  home  from  boarding- 
school  for  a  brief  visit  during  an  epidemic  of  measles 
in  the  school. 

"Oh  yes,  she  manages  to  make  people  think  she's 
happy,"  said  her  mother,  indulgently;  "but  you 
can't  make  me  believe  she's  satisfied  to  give  up  her 
house  on  Fifth  Avenue  and  live  in  a  two-roomed  log 
cabin  in  the  desert,  with  no  society." 

"Mother,  you  don't  know!  Why,  any  woman 
would  be  satisfied  if  her  husband  adored  her  the 
way  Mr.  Brownleigh  does  her." 

"Well,  Ada,  you're  a  romantic  girl,  and  Mr. 
Brownleigh  is  a  handsome  man.  You've  got  a  few 
things  to  learn  yet.  Mark  my  words,  I  don't  believe 
you'll  see  Mrs.  Brownleigh  coming  back  next  month 

186 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

with  her  husband.  This  operation  was  all  well 
enough  to  talk  about,  but  I'll  not  be  surprised  to 
hear  that  he  has  come  back  alone  or  else  that  he 
has  accepted  a  call  to  some  big  city  church.  And 
he's  equal  to  the  city  church,  too;  that's  the  wonder 
of  it.  He  comes  of  a  fine  family  himself,  I've  heard. 
Oh,  people  can't  keep  up  the  pose  of  saints  forever, 
even  though  they  do  adore  each  other.  But  Mr. 
Brownleigh  certainly  is  a  good  man!" 

The  vapid  little  woman  sat  looking  reflectively 
out  of  the  window  for  a  whole  minute  after  this 
deliverance.  Yes,  certainly  Mr.  Brownleigh  was  a 
good  man.  He  was  the  one  man  of  culture,  educa- 
tion, refinement,  who  had  come  her  way  in  many 
a  year  who  had  patiently  and  persistently  and 
gloriously  refused  her  advances  at  a  mild  flirtation, 
and  refused  to  understand  them,  yet  remained  her 
friend  and  reverenced  hero.  He  was  a  good  man, 
and  she  knew  it,  for  she  was  a  very  pretty  woman 
and  understood  her  art  well. 

Before  the  day  was  over  Margaret  had  reason  to 
feel  that  a  Sabbath  in  Arizona  was  a  very  hard  thing 
to  find.  The  singing  could  not  last  all  day,  and  her 
friends  seemed  to  find  more  amusements  on  Sun- 
day that  did  not  come  into  Margaret's  code  of 
Sabbath-keeping  than  one  knew  how  to  say  no  to. 
Neither  could  they  understand  her  feeling,  and  she 
found  it  hard  not  to  be  rude  in  gently  declining  one 
plan  after  another. 

She  drew  the  children  into  a  wide,  cozy  corner 
after  dinner  and  began  a  Bible  story  in  the  guise 
of  a  fairy-tale,  while  the  hostess  slipped  away  to 
take  a  nap.  However,  several  other  guests  lingered 

187 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

about,  and  Mr.  Temple  strayed  in.  They  sat  with 
newspapers  before  their  faces  and  got  into  the  story, 
too,  seeming  to  be  deeply  interested,  so  that,  after 
all,  Margaret  did  not  have  an  unprofitable  Sabbath. 

But  altogether,  though  she  had  a  gay  and  some- 
what frivolous  tune,  a  good  deal  of  admiration  and 
many  invitations  to  return  as  often  as  possible, 
Margaret  was  not  sorry  when  she  said  good  night 
to  know  that  she  was  to  return  in  the  early  morning 
to  her  work. 

Mr.  Temple  himself  was  going  part  way  with 
them,  accompanied  by  his  niece,  Forsythe,  and  the 
young  officer  who  came  over  with  them.  Mar- 
garet rode  beside  Mr.  Temple  until  his  way  parted 
from  theirs,  and  had  a  delightful  talk  about  Arizona. 
He  was  a  kindly  old  fellow  who  adored  his  frivolous 
little  wife  and  let  her  go  her  own  gait,  seeming  not 
to  mind  how  much  she  flirted. 

The  morning  was  pink  and  silver,  gold  and  azure, 
a  wonderful  specimen  of  an  Arizona  sunrise  for 
Margaret's  benefit,  and  a  glorious  beginning  for  her 
day's  work  in  spite  of  the  extremely  early  hour. 
The  company  was  gay  and  blithe,  and  the  Eastern 
girl  felt  as  if  she  were  passing  through  a  wonderful 
experience. 

They  loitered  a  little  on  the  way  to  show  Mar- 
garet the  wonders  of  a  fern-plumed  canon,  and  it 
was  almost  school-tune  when  they  came  up  the 
street,  so  that  Margaret  rode  straight  to  the  school- 
house  instead  of  stopping  at  Tanners'.  On  the  way 
to  the  school  they  passed  a  group  of  girls,  of  whom 
Rosa  Rogers  was  the  center.  A  certain  something 
in  Rosa's  narrowed  eyelids  as  she  said  good  morning 

188 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

caused  Margaret  to  look  back  uneasily,  and  she  dis- 
tinctly saw  the  girl  give  a  signal  to  young  Forsythe, 
who,  for  answer,  only  tipped  his  hat  and  gave  her 
a  peculiar  smile. 

In  a  moment  more  they  had  said  good-by,  and 
Margaret  was  left  at  the  school-house  door  with  a 
cluster  of  eager  children  about  her,  and  several  shy 
boys  in  the  background,  ready  to  welcome  her  back 
as  if  she  had  been  gone  a  month. 

In  the  flutter  of  opening  school  Margaret  failed 
to  notice  that  Rosa  Rogers  did  not  appear.  It  was 
not  until  the  roll  was  called  that  she  noticed  her 
absence,  and  she  looked  uneasily  toward  the  door 
many  times  during  the  morning,  but  Rosa  did  not 
come  until  after  recess,  when  she  stole  smilingly  in, 
as  if  it  were  quite  the  thing  to  come  to  school  late. 
When  questioned  about  her  tardiness  she  said  she 
had  torn  her  dress  and  had  to  go  home  and  change 
it.  Margaret  knew  by  the  look  in  her  eyes  that  the 
girl  was  not  telling  the  truth,  but  what  was  she  to 
do?  It  troubled  her  all  the  morning  and  went  with 
her  to  a  sleepless  pillow  that  night.  She  was  be- 
ginning to  see  that  life  as  a  school-teacher  in  the  far 
West  was  not  all  she  had  imagined  it  to  be.  Her 
father  had  been  right.  There  would  likely  be  more 
thorns  than  roses  on  her  way. 

13 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  first  time  Lance  Gardley  met  Rosa  Rogers 
riding  with  Archie  Forsythe  he  thought  little 
of  it.  He  knew  the  girl  by  sight,  because  he  knew 
her  father  in  a  business  way.  That  she  was  very 
young  and  one  of  Margaret's  pupils  was  all  he 
knew  about  her.  For  the  young  man  he  had  con- 
ceived a  strong  dislike,  but  as  there  was  no  reason 
whatever  for  it  he  put  it  out  of  his  mind  as  quickly 
as  possible. 

The  second  time  he  met  them  it  was  toward  even- 
ing and  they  were  so  wholly  absorbed  in  each  other's 
society  that  they  did  not  see  him  until  he  was  close 
upon  them.  Forsythe  looked  up  with  a  frown  and 
a  quick  hand  to  his  hip,  where  gleamed  a  weapon. 

He  scarcely  returned  the  slight  salute  given  by 
Gardley,  and  the  two  young  people  touched  up  their 
horses  and  were  soon  out  of  sight  in  the  mesquite. 
But  something  in  the  frightened  look  of  the  girl's 
eyes  caused  Gardley  to  turn  and  look  after  the  two. 

Where  could  they  be  going  at  that  hour  of  the 
evening?  It  was  not  a  trail  usually  chosen  for  rides. 
It  was  lonely  and  unfrequented,  and  led  out  of  the 
way  of  travelers.  Gardley  himself  had  been  a  far 
errand  for  Jasper  Kemp,  and  had  taken  this  short 
trail  back  because  it  cut  off  several  miles  and  he 

190 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

was  weary.  Also,  he  was  anxious  to  stop  in  Ash- 
land and  leave  Mom  Wallis's  request  that  Margaret 
would  spend  the  next  Sabbath  at  the  camp  and  see 
the  new  curtains.  He  was  thinking  what  he  should 
say  to  her  when  he  saw  her  in  a  little  while  now, 
and  this  interruption  to  his  thoughts  was  unwelcome. 
Nevertheless,  he  could  not  get  away  from  that  fright- 
ened look  in  the  girl's  eyes.  Where  could  they  have 
been  going?  That  fellow  was  a  new-comer  in  the 
region;  perhaps  he  had  lost  his  way.  Perhaps  he 
did  not  know  that  the  road  he  was  taking  the  girl 
led  into  a  region  of  outlaws,  and  that  the  only  habita- 
tion along  the  way  was  a  cabin  belonging  to  an  old 
woman  of  weird  reputation,  where  wild  orgies  were 
sometimes  celebrated,  and  where  men  went  who 
loved  darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their  deeds 
were  evil. 

Twice  Gardley  turned  in  his  saddle  and  scanned 
the  desert.  The  sky  was  darkening,  and  one  or 
two  pale  stars  were  impatiently  shadowing  forth 
their  presence.  And  now  he  could  see  the  two 
riders  again.  They  had  come  up  out  of  the  mesquite 
to  the  top  of  the  mesa,  and  were  outlined  against 
the  sky  sharply.  They  were  still  on  the  trail  to  old 
Ouida's  cabin! 

With  a  quick  jerk  Gardley  reined  in  his  horse 
and  wheeled  about,  watching  the  riders  for  a  mo- 
ment; and  then,  setting  spurs  to  his  beast,  he  was 
off  down  the  trail  after  them  on  one  of  his  wild, 
reckless  rides.  Down  through  the  mesquite  he 
plunged,  through  the  darkening  grove,  out,  and  up 
to  the  top  of  the  mesa.  He  had  lost  sight  of  his 
quarry  for  the  time,  but  now  he  could  see  them 

191 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

again  riding  more  slowly  in  the  valley  below,  their 
horses  close  together,  and  even  as  he  watched  the 
sky  took  on  its  wide  night  look  and  the  stars  blazed 
forth. 

Suddenly  Gardley  turned  sharply  from  the  trail 
and  made  a  detour  through  a  grove  of  trees,  riding 
with  reckless  speed,  his  head  down  to  escape  low 
branches;  and  in  a  minute  or  two  he  came  with 
unerring  instinct  back  to  the  trail  some  distance 
ahead  of  Forsythe  and  Rosa.  Then  he  wheeled  his 
horse  and  stopped  stock-still,  awaiting  their  coming. 

By  this  time  the  great  full  moon  was  risen  and, 
strangely  enough,  was  at  Gardley 's  back,  making  a 
silhouette  of  man  and  horse  as  the  two  riders  came 
on  toward  him. 

They  rode  out  from  the  cover  of  the  grove,  and 
there  he  was  across  their  path.  Rosa  gave  a  scream, 
drawing  nearer  her  companion,  and  her  horse  swerved 
and  reared;  but  Gardley's  black  stood  like  an  image 
carved  in  ebony  against  the  silver  of  the  moon, 
and  Gardley 's  quiet  voice  was  in  strong  contrast  to 
the  quick,  unguarded  exclamation  of  Forsythe,  as 
he  sharply  drew  rein  and  put  his  hand  hastily  to  his 
hip  for  his  weapon. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Forsythe " — Gardley  had 
an  excellent  memory  for  names — "but  I  thought  you 
might  not  be  aware,  being  a  new-comer  in  these 
parts,  that  the  trail  you  are  taking  leads  to  a  place 
where  ladies  do  not  like  to  go." 

"Really!  You  don't  say  so!"  answered  the  young 
man,  insolently.  "It  is  very  kind  of  you,  I'm  sure, 
but  you  might  have  saved  yourself  the  trouble.  I 
know  perfectly  where  I  am  going,  and  so  does  the 

192 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

lady,  and  we  choose  to  go  this  way.    Move  out  of 
the  way,  please.   You  are  detaining  us/' 

But  Gardley  did  not  move  out  of  the  way.  "I 
am  sure  the  lady  does  not  know  where  she  is  going, " 
he  said,  firmly.  "I  am  sure  that  she  does  not  know 
that  it  is  a  place  of  bad  reputation,  even  in  this  un- 
conventional land.  At  least,  if  she  knows,  I  am  sure 
that  her  father  does  not  know,  and  I  am  well  ac- 
quainted with  her  father." 

"Get  out  of  the  way,  sir,"  said  Forsythe,  hotly. 
"It  certainly  is  none  of  your  business,  anyway, 
whoever  knows  what.  Get  out  of  the  way  or  I  shall 
shoot.  This  lady  and  I  intend  to  ride  where  we 
please." 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  say  you  cannot"  said  Gard- 
ley; and  his  voice  still  had  that  calm  that  made 
his  opponent  think  him  easy  to  conquer. 

"Just  how  do  you  propose  to  stop  us?"  sneered 
Forsythe,  pulling  out  his  pistol. 

"This  way,"  said  Gardley,  lifting  a  tiny  silver 
whistle  to  his  lips  and  sending  forth  a  peculiar,  shrill- 
ing blast.  "And  this  way,"  went  on  Gardley,  calm- 
ly lifting  both  hands  and  showing  a  weapon  in  each, 
wherewith  he  covered  the  two. 

Rosa  screamed  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  cowering  in  her  saddle. 

Forsythe  lifted  his  weapon,  but  looked  around 
nervously.  "Dead  men  tell  no  tales,"  he  said, 
angrily. 

"It  depends  upon  the  man,"  said  Gardley,  mean- 
ingly, "especially  if  he  were  found  on  this  road.  I 
fancy  a  few  tales  could  be  told  if  you  happened  to 
be  the  man.  Turn  your  horses  aronnd  at  once 

193 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

and  take  this  lady  back  to  her  home.  My  men  are 
not  far  off,  and  if  you  do  not  wish  the  whole  story 
to  be  known  among  your  friends  and  hers  you  would 
better  make  haste." 

Forsythe  dropped  his  weapon  and  obeyed.  He  de- 
cidedly did  not  wish  his  escapade  to  be  known 
among  his  friends.  There  were  financial  reasons 
why  he  did  not  care  to  have  it  come  to  the  ears  of 
his  brother-in-law  just  now. 

Silently  in  the  moonlight  the  little  procession  took 
its  way  down  the  trail,  the  girl  and  the  man  side  by 
side,  their  captor  close  behind,  and  when  the  girl 
summoned  courage  to  glance  fearsomely  behind  her 
she  saw  three  more  men  riding  like  three  grim  shad- 
ows yet  behind.  They  had  fallen  into  the  trail  so 
quietly  that  she  had  not  heard  them  when  they 
came.  They  were  Jasper  Kemp,  Long  Bill,  and 
Big  Jim.  They  had  been  out  for  other  purposes, 
but  without  question  followed  the  call  of  the  signal. 

It  was  a  long  ride  back  to  Rogers's  ranch,  and  For- 
sythe glanced  nervously  behind  now  and  then.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  the  company  was  growing  larger 
all  the  time.  He  half  expected  to  see  a  regiment 
each  time  he  turned.  He  tried  hurrying  his  horse, 
but  when  he  did  so  the  followers  were  just  as  close 
without  any  seeming  effort.  He  tried  to  laugh  it 
all  off. 

Once  he  turned  and  tried  to  placate  Gardley  with 
a  few  shakily  jovial  words: 

"Look  here,  old  fellow,  aren't  you  the  man  I  met 
on  the  trail  the  day  Miss  Earle  went  over  to  the 
fort?  I  guess  you've  made  a  mistake  in  your  cal- 
culations. I  was  merely  out  on  a  pleasure  ride  with 

194 


A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

Miss  Rogers.  We  weren't  going  anywhere  in  partic- 
ular, you  know.  Miss  Rogers  chose  this  way,  and 
I  wanted  to  please  her.  No  man  likes  to  have  his 
pleasure  interfered  with,  you  know.  I  guess  you 
didn't  recognize  me?" 

"I  recognized  you,"  said  Gardley.  "It  would  be 
well  for  you  to  be  careful  where  you  ride  with  ladies, 
especially  at  night.  The  matter,  however,  is  one 
that  you  would  better  settle  with  Mr.  Rogers.  My 
duty  will  be  done  when  I  have  put  it  into  his  hands." 

"Now,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Forsythe,  patroniz- 
ingly, "you  surely  don't  intend  to  make  a  great  fuss 
about  this  and  go  telling  tales  to  Mr.  Rogers  about 
a  trifling  matter — " 

"I  intend  to  do  my  duty,  Mr.  Forsythe,"  said 
Gardley;  and  Forsythe  noticed  that  the  young  man 
still  held  his  weapons.  "I  was  set  this  night  to 
guard  Mr.  Rogers' s  property.  That  I  did  not  ex- 
pect his  daughter  would  be  a  part  of  the  evening's 
guarding  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter.  I  shall 
certainly  put  the  matter  into  Mr.  Rogers's  hands." 

Rosa  began  to  cry  softly. 

"Well,  if  you  want  to  be  a  fool,  of  course,"  laughed 
Forsythe,  disagreeably;  "but  you  will  soon  see  Mr. 
Rogers  will  accept  my  explanation." 

"That  is  for  Mr.  Rogers  to  decide,"  answered 
Gardley,  and  said  no  more. 

The  reflections  of  Forsythe  during  the  rest  of  that 
silent  ride  were  not  pleasant,  and  Rosa's  inter- 
mittent crying  did  not  tend  to  make  him  more  com- 
fortable. 

The  silent  procession  at  last  turned  in  at  the  great 
ranch  gate  and  rode  up  to  the  house.  Just  as  they 

195 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

stopped  and  the  door  of  the  house  swung  open,  let- 
ting out  a  flood  of  light,  Rosa  leaned  toward  Gardley 
and  whispered: 

"  Please,  Mr.  Gardley,  don't  tell  papa.  I'll  do 
anything  in  the  world  for  you  if  you  won't  tell  papa." 

He  looked  at  the  pretty,  pitiful  child  in  the  moon- 
light. "I'm  sorry,  Miss  Rosa,"  he  said,  firmly. 
"But  you  don't  understand.  I  must  do  my  duty." 

"Then  I  shall  hate  you!"  she  hissed.  "Do  you 
hear?  I  shall  hate  you  forever,  and  you  don't 
know  what  that  means.  It  means  I'll  take  my 
revenge  on  you  and  on  everybody  you  like." 

He  looked  at  her  half  pityingly  as  he  swung  off 
his  horse  and  went  up  the  steps  to  meet  Mr.  Rogers, 
who  had  come  out  and  was  standing  on  the  top  step 
of  the  ranch-house  in  the  square  of  light  that  flick- 
ered from  a  great  fire  on  the  hearth  of  the  wide  fire- 
place. He  was  looking  from  one  to  another  of  the 
silent  group,  and  as  his  eyes  rested  on  his  daughter 
he  said,  sternly: 

"Why,  Rosa,  what  does  this  mean?  You  told  me 
you  were  going  to  bed  with  a  headache!" 

Gardley  drew  his  employer  aside  and  told  what 
had  happened  in  a  few  low-toned  sentences;  and  then 
stepped  down  and  back  into  the  shadow,  his  horse 
by  his  side,  the  three  men  from  the  camp  grouped 
behind  him.  He  had  the  delicacy  to  withdraw  after 
his  duty  was  done. 

Mr.  Rogers,  his  face  stern  with  sudden  anger  and 
alarm,  stepped  down  and  stood  beside  his  daughter. 
"Rosa,  you  may  get  down  and  go  into  the  house 
to  your  own  room.  I  will  talk  with  you  later,"  he 
said.  And  then  to  the  young  man,  "You,  sir,  will 

196 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

step  into  my  office.  I  wish  to  have  a  plain  talk 
with  you." 

A  half -hour  later  Forsythe  came  out  of  the  Rogers 
house  and  mounted  his  horse,  while  Mr.  Rogers  stood 
silently  and  watched  him. 

"I  will  bid  you  good  evening,  sir,"  he  said,  for- 
mally, as  the  young  man  mounted  his  horse  and 
silently  rode  away.  His  back  had  a  defiant  look  in 
the  moonlight  as  he  passed  the  group  of  men  in  the 
shadow;  but  they  did  not  turn  to  watch  him. 

"That  will  be  all  to-night,  Gardley,  and  I  thank 
you  very  much,"  called  the  clear  voice  of  Mr.  Rogers 
from  his  front  steps. 

The  four  men  mounted  their  horses  silently  and 
rode  down  a  little  distance  behind  the  young  man, 
who  wondered  in  his  heart  just  how  much  or  how 
little  Gardley  had  told  Rosa's  father. 

The  interview  to  which  young  Forsythe  had  just 
been  subjected  had  been  chastening  in  character, 
of  a  kind  to  baffle  curiosity  concerning  the  father's 
knowledge  of  details,  and  to  discourage  any  further 
romantic  rides  with  Miss  Rosa.  It  had  been  left  in 
abeyance  whether  or  not  the  Temples  should  be 
made  acquainted  with  the  episode,  dependent  upon 
the  future  conduct  of  both  young  people.  It  had 
not  been  satisfactory  from  Forsythe's  point  of  view; 
that  is,  he  had  not  been  so  easily  able  to  disabuse 
the  father's  mind  of  suspicion,  nor  to  establish  his 
own  guileless  character  as  he  had  hoped;  and  some 
of  the  remarks  Rogers  made  led  Forsythe  to  think 
that  the  father  understood  just  how  unpleasant  it 
might  become  for  him  if  his  brother-in-law  found 
out  about  the  escapade. 

197 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

This  is  why  Archie  Forsythe  feared  Lance  Card- 
ley,  although  there  was  nothing  in  the  least  trium- 
phant about  the  set  of  that  young  man's  shoulders 
as  he  rode  away  in  the  moonlight  on  the  trail  toward 
Ashland.  And  this  is  how  it  came  about  that  Rosa 
Rogers  hated  Lance  Gardley,  handsome  and  daring 
though  he  was;  and  because  of  him  hated  her 
teacher,  Margaret  Earle. 

An  hour  later  Lance  Gardley  stood  in  the  little 
dim  Tanner  parlor,  talking  to  Margaret. 

"You  look  tired,"  said  the  girl,  compassionately, 
as  she  saw  the  haggard  shadows  on  the  young  face, 
showing  in  spite  of  the  light  of  pleasure  in  his  eyes. 
"You  look  very  tired.  What  in  the  world  have  you 
been  doing?" 

"I  went  out  to  catch  cattle-thieves,"  he  said, 
with  a  sigh,  "but  I  found  there  were  other  kinds  of 
thieves  abroad.  It's  all  in  the  day's  work.  I'm 
not  tired  now."  And  he  smiled  at  her  with  beautiful 
reverence. 

Margaret,  as  she  watched  him,  could  not  help 
thinking  that  the  lines  in  his  face  had  softened  and 
strengthened  since  she  had  first  seen  him,  and  her 
eyes  let  him  know  that  she  was  glad  he  had  come. 

"And  so  you  will  really  come  to  us,  and  it  isn't 
going  to  be  asking  too  much?"  he  said,  wistfully. 
"  You  can't  think  what  it's  going  to  be  to  the  men — 
to  us!  And  Mom  Wallis  is  so  excited  she  can  hardly 
get  her  work  done.  If  you  had  said  no  I  would  be 
almost  afraid  to  go  back."  He  laughed,  but  she 
could  see  there  was  deep  earnestness  under  his  tone. 

"Indeed  I  will  come,"  said  Margaret.  "I'm  just 
looking  forward  to  it.  I'm  going  to  bring  Mom 

198 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Wallis  a  new  bonnet  like  one  I  made  for  mother; 
and  I'm  going  to  teach  her  how  to  make  corn  gems 
and  steamed  apple  dumplings.  I'm  bringing  some 
songs  and  some  music  for  the  violin;  and  I've  got 
something  for  you  to  help  me  do,  too,  if  you  will?" 

He  smiled  tenderly  down  on  her.  What  a  won- 
derful girl  she  was,  to  be  willing  to  come  out  to  the 
old  shack  among  a  lot  of  rough  men  and  one  uncul- 
tured old  woman  and  make  them  happy,  when  she 
was  fit  for  the  finest  in  the  land! 

"  You're  wonderful!"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  with 
a  quick  pressure  for  good-by.  "  You  make  every  one 
want  to  do  his  best." 

He  hurried  out  to  his  horse  and  rode  away  in  the 
moonlight.  Margaret  went  up  to  her  "  mountain 
window"  and  watched  him  far  out  on  the  trail,  her 
heart  swelling  with  an  unnamed  gladness  over  his 
last  words. 

"Oh,  God,  keep  him,  and  help  him  to  make  good!" 
she  prayed. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  visit  to  the  camp  was  a  time  to  be  remem- 
bered long  by  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  bunk- 
house,  and  even  by  Margaret  herself.  Margaret 
wondered  Friday  evening,  as  she  sat  up  late,  working 
away  braiding  a  lovely  gray  bonnet  out  of  folds  of 
malines,  and  fashioning  it  into  form  for  Mom  Wallis, 
why  she  was  looking  forward  to  the  visit  with  so 
much  more  real  pleasure  than  she  had  done  to  the 
one  the  week  before  at  the  Temples'.  And  so  subtle 
is  the  heart  of  a  maid  that  she  never  fathomed  the 
real  reason. 

The  Temples',  of  course,  was  interesting  and  de- 
lightful as  being  something  utterly  new  in  her  ex- 
perience. It  was  comparatively  luxurious,  and  there 
were  pleasant,  cultured  people  there,  more  from  her 
own  social  class  in  Me.  But  it  was  going  to  be  such 
fun  to  surprise  Mom  Wallis  with  that  bonnet  and 
Svie  her  old  face  light  up  when  she  saw  herself  in  the 
little  folding  three-leaved  mirror  she  was  taking 
along  with  her  and  meant  to  leave  for  Mom  Wallis's 
log  boudoir.  She  was  quite  excited  over  selecting  some 
little  thing  for  each  one  of  the  men — books,  pictures, 
a  piece  of  music,  a  bright  cushion,  and  a  pile  of 
picture  magazines.  It  made  a  big  bundle  when  she 

had  them  together,  and  she  was  dubious  if  she  ought 

200 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

to  try  to  carry  them  all;  but  Bud,  whom  she  con- 
sulted on  the  subject,  said,  loftily,  it  "  wasn't  a  flea- 
bite  for  the  Kid;  he  could  carry  anything  on  a 
horse." 

Bud  was  just  a  little  jealous  to  have  his  beloved 
teacher  away  from  home  so  much,  and  rejoiced 
greatly  when  Gardley,  Friday  afternoon,  suggested 
that  he  come  along,  too.  He  made  quick  time  to 
his  home,  and  secured  a  hasty  permission  and  ward- 
robe, appearing  like  a  footman  on  his  father's  old 
horse  when  they  were  half  a  mile  down  the  trail. 

Mom  Wallis  was  out  at  the  door  to  greet  her  guest 
when  she  arrived,  for  Margaret  had  chosen  to  make 
her  visit  last  from  Friday  afternoon  after  school, 
until  Monday  morning.  It  was  the  generosity  of 
her  nature  that  she  gave  to  her  utmost  when  she 
gave. 

The  one  fear  she  had  entertained  about  coming 
had  been  set  at  rest  on  the  way  when  Gardley  told 
her  that  Pop  Wallis  was  off  on  one  of  his  long  trips, 
selling  cattle,  and  would  probably  not  return  for  a 
week.  Margaret,  much  as  she  trusted  Gardley  and 
the  men,  could  not  help  dreading  to  meet  Pop 
Wallis  again. 

There  was  a  new  trimness  about  the  old  bunk- 
house.  The  clearing  had  been  cleaned  up  and  made 
neat,  the  grass  cut,  some  vines  set  out  and  trained 
up  limply  about  the  door,  and  the  windows  shone 
with  Mom  Wallis' s  washing. 

Mom  Wallis  herself  was  wearing  her  best  white 
apron,  stiff  with  starch,  her  lace  collar,  and  her  hair 
in  her  best  imitation  of  the  way  Margaret  had  fixed 
it,  although  it  must  be  confessed  she  hadn't  quite 

201 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

caught  the  knack  of  arrangement  yet.  But  the 
one  great  difference  Margaret  noticed  in  the  old 
woman  was  the  illuminating  smile  on  her  face.  Mom 
Wallis  had  learned  how  to  let  the  glory  gleam 
through  all  the  hard  sordidness  of  her  life,  and  make 
earth  brighter  for  those  about  her. 

The  curtains  certainly  made  a  great  difference  in 
the  looks  of  the  bunk-house,  together  with  a  few 
other  changes.  The  men  had  made  some  chairs — 
three  of  them,  one  out  of  a  barrel;  and  together  they 
had  upholstered  them  roughly.  The  cots  around  the 
walls  were  blazing  with  their  red  blankets  folded 
smoothly  and  neatly  over  them,  and  on  the  floor 
in  front  of  the  hearth,  which  had  been  scrubbed, 
Gardley  had  spread  a  Navajo  blanket  he  had  bought 
of  an  Indian. 

The  fireplace  was  piled  with  logs  ready  for  the 
lighting  at  night,  and  from  somewhere  a  lamp  had 
been  rigged  up  and  polished  till  it  shone  in  the 
setting  sun  that  slanted  long  rays  in  at  the  shining 
windows. 

The  men  were  washed  and  combed,  and  had  been 
huddled  at  the  back  of  the  bunk-house  for  an  hour, 
watching  the  road,  and  now  they  came  forward  awk- 
wardly to  greet  their  guest,  their  horny  hands  scrubbed 
to  an  unbelievable  whiteness.  They  did  not  say 
much,  but  they  looked  their  pleasure,  and  Margaret 
greeted  every  one  as  if  he  were  an  old  friend,  the 
charming  part  about  it  all  to  the  men  being  that 
she  remembered  every  one's  name  and  used  it. 

Bud  hovered  in  the  background  and  watched  with 
starry  eyes.  Bud  was  having  the  tune  of  his  life.  He 

preferred  the  teacher's  visiting  the  camp  rather  than 

202 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

the  fort.  The  "  Howdy,  sonny !"  which  he  had  re- 
ceived from  the  men,  and  the  "Make  yourself  at 
home,  Bill"  from  Gardley,  had  given  him  great  joy; 
and  the  whole  thing  seemed  somehow  to  link  him  to 
the  teacher  in  a  most  distinguishing  manner. 

Supper  was  ready  almost  immediately,  and  Mom 
Wallis  had  done  her  best  to  make  it  appetizing. 
There  was  a  lamb  stew  with  potatoes,  and  fresh  corn 
bread  with  coffee.  The  men  ate  with  relish,  and 
watched  their  guest  of  honor  as  if  she  had  been  an 
angel  come  down  to  abide  with  them  for  a  season. 
There  was  a  tablecloth  on  the  old  table,  too — a  white 
tablecloth.  It  looked  remarkably  like  an  old  sheet, 
to  be  sure,  with  a  seam  through  the  middle  where 
it  had  been  worn  and  turned  and  sewed  together; 
but  it  was  a  tablecloth  now,  and  a  marvel  to  the 
men.  And  the  wonder  about  Margaret  was  that 
she  could  eat  at  such  a  table  and  make  it  seem  as 
though  that  tablecloth  were  the  finest  damask,  and 
the  two-tined  forks  the  heaviest  of  silver. 

After  the  supper  was  cleared  away  and  the  lamp 
lighted,  the  gifts  were  brought  out.  A  book  of 
Scotch  poetry  for  Jasper  Kemp,  bound  in  tartan 
covers  of  the  Campbell  clan ;  a  small  illustrated  pam- 
phlet of  Niagara  Falls  for  Big  Jim,  because  he  had 
said  he  wanted  to  see  the  place  and  never  could 
manage  it;  a  little  pictured  folder  of  Washington 
City  for  Big  Jim;  a  book  of  old  ballad  music  for 
Fiddling  Boss;  a  book  of  jokes  for  Fade-away 
Forbes;  a  framed  picture  of  a  beautiful  shepherd  dog 
for  Stocky;  a  big,  red,  ruffled  denim  pillow  for 
Croaker,  because  when  she  was  there  before  he  was 
always  complaining  about  the  seats  being  hard; 

203 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

a  great  blazing  crimson  pennant  bearing  the  name 
HARVARD  in  big  letters  for  Fudge,  because  she  had 
remembered  he  was  from  Boston;  and  for  Mom 
Wallis  a  framed  text  beautifully  painted  in  water- 
colors,  done  hi  rustic  letters  twined  with  stray 
forget-me-nots,  the  words,  "Come  unto  Me,  all  ye 
that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest."  Margaret  had  made  that  during  the  week 
and  framed  it  in  a  simple  raffia  braid  of  brown  and 
green. 

It  was  marvelous  how  these  men  liked  their  pres- 
ents; and  while  they  were  examining  them  and 
laughing  about  them  and  putting  their  pictures  and 
Mom  Wallis' s  text  on  the  walls,  and  the  pillow  on 
a  bunk,  and  the  pennant  over  the  fireplace,  Mar- 
garet shyly  held  out  a  tiny  box  to  Gardley. 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  would  let  me  give  you 
this,"  she  said.  "It  isn't  much;  it  isn't  even  new, 
and  it  has  some  marks  in  it;  but  I  thought  it  might 
help  with  your  new  undertaking." 

Gardley  took  it  with  a  lighting  of  his  face  and 
opened  the  box.  In  it  was  a  little,  soft,  leather- 
bound  Testament,  showing  the  marks  of  usage,  yet 
not  worn.  It  was  a  tiny  thing,  very  thin,  easily 
fitting  in  a  vest-pocket,  and  not  a  burden  to  carry. 
He  took  the  little  book  in  his  hand,  removed  the 
silken  rubber  band  that  bound  it,  and  turned  the 
leaves  reverently  in  his  fingers,  noting  that  there 
were  pencil-marks  here  and  there.  His  face  was  all 
emotion  as  he  looked  up  at  the  giver. 

"I  thank  you,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  glancing 
about  to  see  that  no  o^te  was  noticing  them.  "I 
shall  prize  it  greatly.  It  surely  will  help.  I  will 

204 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

read  it  every  day.  Was  that  what  you  wanted? 
And  I  will  carry  it  with  me  always." 

His  voice  was  very  earnest,  and  he  looked  at  her 
as  though  she  had  given  him  a  fortune.  With  an- 
other glance  about  at  the  preoccupied  room — even 
Bud  was  busy  studying  Jasper  Kemp's  oldest  gun — 
he  snapped  the  band  on  the  book  again  and  put  it 
carefully  in  his  inner  breast-pocket.  The  book  would 
henceforth  travel  next  his  heart  and  be  his  guide. 
She  thought  he  meant  her  to  understand  that,  as  he 
put  out  his  hand  unobtrusively  and  pressed  her 
fingers  gently  with  a  quick,  low  "Thank  you!" 

Then  Mom  Wallis's  bonnet  was  brought  out  and 
tied  on  her,  and  the  poor  old  woman  blushed  like  a 
girl  when  she  stood  with  meek  hands  folded  at  her 
waist  and  looked  primly  about  on  the  family  for 
their  approval  at  Margaret's  request.  But  that  was 
nothing  to  the  way  she  stared  when  Margaret  got 
out  the  threefold  mirror  and  showed  her  herself  in 
the  new  headgear.  She  trotted  away  at  last,  the 
wonderful  bonnet  in  one  hand,  the  box  in  the  other, 
a  look  of  awe  on  her  face,  and  Margaret  heard  her 
murmur  as  she  put  it  away:  " Glory!  Me!  Glory!" 

Then  Margaret  had  to  read  one  or  two  of  the 
poems  for  Jasper  Kemp,  while  they  all  sat  and  lis- 
tened to  her  Scotch  and  marveled  at  her.  A  woman 
like  that  condescending  to  come  to  visit  them! 

She  gave  a  lesson  in  note-reading  to  the  Fiddling 
Boss,  pointing  one  by  one  with  her  white  fingers  to 
the  notes  until  he  was  able  to  creep  along  and  pick 
out  "Suwanee  River"  and  "Old  Folks  at  Home" 
to  the  intense  delight  of  the  audience. 

Margaret  never  knew  just  how  it  was  that  she 

14  205 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

came  to  be  telling  the  men  a  story,  one  she  had 
read  not  long  before  in  a  magazine,  a  story  with  a 
thrilling  national  interest  and  a  keen  personal  touch 
that  searched  the  hearts  of  men;  but  they  listened  as 
they  had  never  listened  to  anything  hi  their  lives 
before. 

And  then  there  was  singing,  more  singing,  until 
it  bade  fair  to  be  morning  before  they  slept,  and  the 
little  teacher  was  weary  indeed  when  she  lay  down 
on  the  cot  in  Mom  Wallis's  room,  after  having  knelt 
beside  the  old  woman  and  prayed. 

The  next  day  there  was  a  wonderful  ride  with 
Gardley  and  Bud  to  the  canon  of  the  cave-dwellers, 
and  a  coming  home  to  the  apple  dumplings  she  had 
taught  Mom  Wallis  to  make  before  she  went  away. 
All  day  Gardley  and  she,  with  Bud  for  delighted  au- 
dience, had  talked  over  the  play  she  was  getting  up 
at  the  school,  Gardley  suggesting  about  costumes  and 
tree  boughs  for  scenery,  and  promising  to  help  in 
any  way  she  wanted.  Then  after  supper  there  were 
jokes  and  songs  around  the  big  fire,  and  some  pop- 
corn one  of  the  men  had  gone  a  long  ride  that  day 
to  get.  They  called  for  another  story,  too,  and  it 
was  forthcoming. 

It  was  Sunday  morning  after  breakfast,  however, 
that  Margaret  suddenly  wondered  how  she  was  going 
to  make  the  day  helpful  and  different  from  the  other 
days. 

She  stood  for  a  moment  looking  out  of  the  clear 
little  window  thoughtfully,  with  just  the  shadow  of 
a  sigh  on  her  lips,  and  as  she  turned  back  to  the  room 
she  met  Gardley's  questioning  glance. 

"Are  you  homesick?"  he  asked,  with  a  sorry 

206 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

smile.  "This  must  all  be  very  different  from  what 
you  are  accustomed  to." 

"Oh  no,  it  isn't  that."  She  smiled,  brightly.  "I'm 
not  a  baby  for  home,  but  I  do  get  a  bit  homesick 
about  church-time.  Sunday  is  such  a  strange  day 
to  me  without  a  service." 

"Why  not  have  one,  then?"  he  suggested,  eagerly. 
"We  can  sing  and — you  could — do  the  rest!" 

Her  eyes  lighted  at  the  suggestion,  and  she  cast 
a  quick  glance  at  the  men.  Would  they  stand  for 
that  sort  of  thing? 

Gardley  followed  her  glance  and  caught  her 
meaning.  "Let  them  answer  for  themselves,"  he 
said  quickly  in  a  low  tone,  and  then,  raising  his 
voice:  "Speak  up,  men.  Do  you  want  to  have 
church?  Miss  Earle  here  is  homesick  for  a  service, 
and  I  suggest  that  we  have  one,  and  she  conduct  it." 

"Sure!"  said  Jasper  Kemp,  his  face  lighting. 
"I'll  miss  my  guess  if  she  can't  do  better  than  the 
parson  we  had  last  Sunday.  Get  into  your  seats, 
boys;  we're  goin'  to  church." 

Margaret's  face  was  a  study  of  embarrassment  and 
delight  as  she  saw  the  alacrity  with  which  the  men 
moved  to  get  ready  for  "church."  Her  quick  brain 
turned  over  the  possibility  of  what  she  could  read  or 
say  to  help  this  strange  congregation  thus  suddenly 
thrust  upon  her. 

It  was  a  testimony  to  her  upbringing  by  a  father 
whose  great  business  of  life  was  to  preach  the  gospel 
that  she  never  thought  once  of  hesitating  or  declining 
the  opportunity,  but  welcomed  it  as  an  opportunity, 
and  only  deprecated  her  unreadiness  for  the  work. 

The  men  stirred  about,  donned  their  coats,  fur- 

207 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

lively  brushing  their  hair,  and  Long  Bill  insisted 
that  Mom  Wallis  put  on  her  new  bonnet;  which  she 
obligingly  did,  and  sat  down  carefully  in  the  barrel- 
chair,  her  hands  neatly  crossed  in  her  lap,  supremely 
happy.  It  really  was  wonderful  what  a  difference 
that  bonnet  made  in  Mom  Wallis. 

Gardley  arranged  a  comfortable  seat  for  Margaret 
at  the  table  and  put  in  front  of  her  one  of  the  hymn- 
books  she  had  brought.  Then,  after  she  was  seated, 
he  took  the  chair  beside  her  and  brought  out  the 
little  Testament  from  his  breast-pocket,  gravely 
laying  it  on  the  hymn-book. 

Margaret  met  his  eyes  with  a  look  of  quick  ap- 
preciation. It  was  wonderful  the  way  these  two 
were  growing  to  understand  each  other.  It  gave 
the  girl  a  thrill  of  wonder  and  delight  to  have  him 
do  this  simple  little  thing  for  her,  and  the  smile  that 
passed  between  them  was  beautiful  to  see.  Long 
Bill  turned  away  his  head  and  looked  out  of  the 
window  with  an  improvised  sneeze  to  excuse  the 
sudden  mist  that  came  into  his  eyes. 

Margaret  chose  "My  Faith  looks  up  to  Thee"  for 
the  first  hymn,  because  Fiddling  Boss  could  play  it, 
and  while  he  was  tuning  up  his  fiddle  she  hastily 
wrote  out  two  more  copies  of  the  words.  And  so 
the  queer  service  started  with  a  quaver  of  the  old 
fiddle  and  the  clear,  sweet  voices  of  Margaret  and 
Gardley  leading  off,  while  the  men  growled  on  then' 
way  behind,  and  Mom  Wallis,  in  her  new  gray 
bonnet,  with  her  hair  all  fluffed  softly  gray  under  it, 
sat  with  eyes  shining  like  a  girl's. 

So  absorbed  in  the  song  were  they  all  that  they 
failed  to  hear  the  sound  of  a  horse  coming  into  the 

208 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

clearing.  But  just  as  the  last  words  of  the  final 
verse  died  away  the  door  of  the  bunk-house  swung 
open,  and  there  in  the  doorway  stood  Pop  Wallis! 

The  men  sprang  to  their  feet  with  one  accord, 
ominous  frowns  on  their  brows,  and  poor  old  Mom 
Wallis  sat  petrified  where  she  was,  the  smile  of 
relaxation  frozen  on  her  face,  a  look  of  fear  growing 
in  her  tired  old  eyes. 

Now  Pop  Wallis,  through  an  unusual  combination 
of  circumstances,  had  been  for  some  hours  without 
liquor  and  was  comparatively  sober.  He  stood  for 
a  moment  staring  amazedly  at  the  group  around  his 
fireside.  Perhaps  because  he  had  been  so  long  with- 
out his  usual  stimulant  his  mind  was  weakened  and 
things  appeared  as  a  strange  vision  to  him.  At  any 
rate,  he  stood  and  stared,  and  as  he  looked  from  one 
to  another  of  the  men,  at  the  beautiful  stranger, 
and  across  to  the  strangely  unfamiliar  face  of  his 
wife  in  her  new  bonnet,  his  eyes  took  on  a  frightened 
look.  He  slowly  took  his  hand  from  the  door- 
frame and  passed  it  over  his  eyes,  then  looked 
again,  from  one  to  another,  and  back  to  his  glori- 
ified  wife. 

Margaret  had  half  risen  at  her  end  of  the  table, 
and  Gardley  stood  beside  her  as  if  to  reassure  her; 
but  Pop  Wallis  was  not  looking  at  any  of  them  any 
more.  His  eyes  were  on  his  wife.  He  passed  his 
hand  once  more  over  his  eyes  and  took  one  step 
gropingly  into  the  room,  a  hand  reached  out  in  front 
of  him,  as  if  he  were  not  sure  but  he  might  run  into 
something  on  the  way,  the  other  hand  on  his  fore- 
head, a  dazed  look  in  his  face. 

"Why,  Mom — that  ain't  really — you,  now,  is  it?" 

209 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

he  said,  in  a  gentle,  insinuating  voice  like  one  long 
unaccustomed  making  a  hasty  prayer. 

The  tone  made  a  swift  change  in  the  old  woman. 
She  gripped  her  bony  hands  tight  and  a  look  of 
beatific  joy  came  into  her  wrinkled  face. 

"Yes,  it's  really  me,  Pop!"  she  said,  with  a  kind 
of  triumphant  ring  to  her  voice. 

"But — but — you're  right  here,  ain't  you?  You 
ain't  dead,  an' — an' — gone  to — gl-oo-ry,  be  you? 
You're  right  heref" 

"Yes,  I'm  right  here,  Pop.  I  ain't  dead!  Pop — 
glory's  come  to  me!" 

"Glory?"  repeated  the  man,  dazedly.  "Glory?" 
And  he  gazed  around  the  room  and  took  in  the  new 
curtains,  the  pictures  on  the  wall,  the  cushions  and 
chairs,  and  the  bright,  shining  windows.  "You 
don't  mean  it's  hcav'n,  do  you,  Mom?  'Cause  I 
better  go  back—/  don't  belong  in  heav'n.  Why, 
Mom,  it  can't  be  glory,  'cause  it's  the  same  old  bunk- 
house  outside,  anyhow." 

"Yes,  it's  the  same  old  bunk-house,  and  it  ain't 
heaven,  but  it's  goin1  to  be.  The  glory's  come  all 
right.  You  sit  down,  Pop;  we're  goin'  to  have 
church,  and  this  is  my  new  bonnet.  She  brang  it. 
This  is  the  new  school-teacher,  Miss  Earle,  and  she's 
goin'  to  have  church.  She  done  it  all!  You  sit 
down  and  listen." 

Pop  Wallis  took  a  few  hesitating  steps  into  the 
room  and  dropped  into  the  nearest  chair.  He 
looked  at  Margaret  as  if  she  might  be  an  angel  hold- 
ing open  the  portal  to  a  kingdom  in  the  sky.  He 
looked  and  wondered  and  admired,  and  then  he 

looked  back  to  his  glorified  old  wife  again  in  wonder. 

210 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Jasper  Kemp  shut  the  door,  and  the  company 
dropped  back  into  their  places.  Margaret,  because 
of  her  deep  embarrassment,  and  a  kind  of  inward 
trembling  that  had  taken  possession  of  her,  an- 
nounced another  hymn. 

It  was  a  solemn  little  service,  quite  unique,  with 
a  brief,  simple  prayer  and  an  expository  reading  of 
the  story  of  the  blind  man  from  the  sixth  chapter  of 
John.  The  men  sat  attentively,  their  eyes  upon 
her  face  as  she  read;  but  Pop  Wallis  sat  staring  at 
his  wife,  an  awed  light  upon  his  scared  old  face, 
the  wickedness  and  cunning  all  faded  out,  and  only 
fear  and  wonder  written  there. 

In  the  early  dawning  of  the  pink-and-silver  morn- 
ing Margaret  went  back  to  her  work,  Gardley  riding 
by  her  side,  and  Bud  riding  at  a  discreet  distance 
behind,  now  and  then  going  off  at  a  tangent  after  a 
stray  cottontail.  It  was  wonderful  what  good  sense 
Bud  seemed  to  have  on  occasion. 

The  horse  that  Margaret  rode,  a  sturdy  little 
Western  pony,  with  nerve  and  grit  and  a  gentle 
common  sense  for  humans,  was  to  remain  with  her 
in  Ashland,  a  gift  from  the  men  of  the  bunk-house. 
During  the  week  that  followed  Archie  Forsythe  came 
riding  over  with  a  beautiful  shining  saddle-horse  for 
her  use  during  her  stay  in  the  West;  but  when  he 
went  riding  back  to  the  ranch  the  shining  saddle- 
horse  was  still  in  his  train,  riderless,  for  Margaret 
told  him  that  she  already  had  a  horse  of  her  own. 
Neither  had  Margaret  accepted  the  invitation  to 
the  Temples7  for  the  next  week-end.  She  had  other 
plans  for  the  Sabbath,  and  that  week  there  appeared 

on  all  the  trees  and  posts  about  the  town,  and  on 

211 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

the  trails,  a  little  notice  of  a  Bible  class  and  vespei- 
service  to  be  held  in  the  school-house  on  the  follow- 
ing Sabbath  afternoon;  and  so  Margaret,  true 
daughter  of  her  minister-father,  took  up  her  mission 
in  Ashland  for  the  Sabbaths  that  were  to  follow;  for 
the  school-board  had  agreed  with  alacrity  to  such 
use  of  the  school-house. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

NOW  when  it  became  noised  abroad  that  the 
new  teacher  wanted  above  all  things  to  pur- 
chase a  piano,  and  that  to  that  end  she  was  getting 
up  a  wonderful  Shakespeare  play  hi  which  the 
scholars  were  to  act  upon  a  stage  set  with  tree 
boughs  after  the  manner  of  some  new  kind  of 
players,  the  whole  community  round  about  began 
to  be  excited. 

Mrs.  Tanner  talked  much  about  it.  Was  not  Bud 
to  be  a  prominent  character?  Mr.  Tanner  talked 
about  it  everywhere  he  went.  The  mothers  and 
fathers  and  sisters  talked  about  it,  and  the  work  of 
preparing  the  play  went  on. 

Margaret  had  discovered  that  one  of  the  men  at 
the  bunk-house  played  a  flute,  and  she  was  working 
hard  to  teach  him  and  Fiddling  Boss  and  Croaker 
to  play  a  portion  of  the  elfin  dance  to  accompany 
the  players.  The  work  of  making  costumes  and 
training  the  actors  became  more  and  more  strenu- 
ous, and  in  this  Gardley  proved  a  fine  assistant. 
He  undertook  to  train  some  of  the  older  boys  for 
their  parts,  and  did  it  so  well  that  he  was  presently 
in  the  forefront  of  the  battle  of  preparation  and 
working  almost  as  hard  as  Margaret  herself. 

The  beauty  of  the  whole  thing  was  that  every 

213 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

boy  in  the  school  adored  him,  even  Jed  and  Timothy, 
and  life  took  on  a  different  aspect  to  them  in  com- 
pany with  this  high-born  college-bred,  Eastern  young 
man  who  yet  could  ride  and  shoot  with  the  daringest 
among  the  Westerners. 

Far  and  wide  went  forth  the  fame  of  the  play 
that  was  to  be.  The  news  of  it  reached  to  the  fort 
and  the  ranches,  and  brought  offers  of  assistance  and 
costumes  and  orders  for  tickets.  Margaret  pur- 
chased a  small  duplicator  and  set  her  school  to  print- 
ing tickets  and  selling  them,  and  before  the  play 
was  half  ready  to  be  acted  tickets  enough  were  sold 
for  two  performances,  and  people  were  planning  to 
come  from  fifty  miles  around.  The  young  teacher 
began  to  quake  at  the  thought  of  her  big  audience 
and  her  poor  little  amateur  players;  and  yet  for 
children  they  were  doing  wonderfully  well,  and  were 
growing  quite  Shakespearian  in  their  manner  of 
conversation. 

"  What  say  you,  sweet  Amanda?"  would  be  a  form 
of  frequent  address  to  that  stolid  maiden  Amanda 
Bounds;  and  Jed, instead  of  shouting  for  " Delicate" 
at  recess,  as  in  former  times,  would  say,  "My  good 
Timothy,  I  swear  to  thee  by  Cupid's  strongest  bow; 
by  his  best  arrow  with  the  golden  head" — until  all 
the  school-yard  rang  with  classic  phrases;  and  the 
whole  country  round  was  being  addressed  in  phrases 
of  another  century  by  the  younger  members  of 
their  households. 

Then  Rosa  Rogers's  father  one  day  stopped  at  the 
Tanners'  and  left  a  contribution  with  the  teacher 
of  fifty  dollars  toward  the  new  piano;  and  after  that 
it  was  rumored  that  the  teacher  said  the  piano 

214 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

could  be  sent  for  in  time  to  be  used  at  the  play. 
Then  other  contributions  of  smaller  amounts  came 
in,  and  before  the  date  of  the  play  had  been  set 
there  was  money  enough  to  make  a  first  payment 
on  the  piano.  That  day  the  English  exercise  for 
the  whole  school  was  to  compose  the  letter  to  the 
Eastern  piano  firm  where  the  piano  was  to  be  pur- 
chased, ordering  it  to  be  sent  on  at  once.  Weeks 
before  this  Margaret  had  sent  for  a  number  of  piano 
catalogues  beautifully  illustrated,  showing  by  cuts 
how  the  whole  instruments  were  made,  with  full 
illustrations  of  the  factories  where  they  were  manu- 
factured, and  she  had  discussed  the  selection  with 
the  scholars,  showing  them  what  points  were  to  be 
considered  in  selecting  a  good  piano.  At  last  the 
order  was  sent  out,  the  actual  selection  itself  to  be 
made  by  a  musical  friend  of  Margaret's  in  New  York, 
and  the  school  waited  in  anxious  suspense  to  hear 
that  it  had  started  on  its  way. 

The  piano  arrived  at  last,  three  weeks  before  the 
time  set  for  the  play,  which  was  coming  on  finely 
now  and  seemed  to  the  eager  scholars  quite  ready 
for  public  performance.  Not  so  to  Margaret  and 
Gardley,  as  daily  they  pruned,  trained,  and  pa- 
tiently went  over  and  over  again  each  part,  draw- 
ing all  the  while  nearer  to  the  ideal  they  had  set. 
It  could  not  be  done  perfectly,  of  course,  and  when 
they  had  done  all  they  could  there  would  yet  be 
many  crudities;  but  Margaret's  hope  was  to  bring 
out  the  meaning  of  the  play  and  give  both  audience 
and  performers  the  true  idea  of  what  Shakespeare 
meant  when  he  wrote  it. 

The  arrival  of  the  piano  was  naturally  a  great 

215 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

event  in  the  school.  For  three  days  in  succession 
the  entire  school  marched  in  procession  down  to  the 
incoming  Eastern  train  to  see  if  their  expected 
treasure  had  arrived,  and  when  at  last  it  was  lifted 
from  the  freight-car  and  set  upon*  the  station  plat- 
form the  school  stood  awe-struck  and  silent,  with 
half-bowed  heads  and  bated  breath,  as  though  at 
the  arrival  of  some  great  and  honorable  guest. 

They  attended  it  on  the  roadside  as  it  was  carted 
by  the  biggest  wagon  in  town  to  the  school-house 
door;  they  stood  in  silent  rows  while  the  great  box 
was  peeled  off  and  the  instrument  taken  out  and 
carried  into  the  school-room;  then  they  filed  in  soul- 
fully  and  took  their  accustomed  seats  without  being 
told,  touching  shyly  the  shining  case  as  they  passed. 
By  common  consent  they  waited  to  hear  its  voice 
for  the  first  time.  Margaret  took  the  little  key  from 
the  envelope  tied  to  the  frame,  unlocked  the  cover, 
and,  sitting  down,  began  to  play.  The  rough  men 
who  had  brought  it  stood  in  awesome  adoration 
around  the  platform;  the  silence  that  spread  over 
that  room  would  have  done  honor  to  Paderewski  or 
Josef  Hoffman. 

Margaret  played  and  played,  and  they  could  not 
hear  enough.  They  would  have  stayed  all  night- 
listening,  perhaps,  so  wonderful  was  it  to  them. 
And  then  the  teacher  called  each  one  and  let  him 
or  her  touch  a  few  chords,  just  to  say  they  had 
played  on  it.  After  which  she  locked  the  instru- 
ment and  sent  them  all  home.  That  was  the  only 
afternoon  during  that  term  that  the  play  was  for- 
gotten for  a  while. 

After  the  arrival  of  the  piano  the  play  went  for- 

216 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

ward  with  great  strides,  for  now  Margaret  accom- 
panied some  of  the  parts  with  the  music,  and  the 
flute  and  violin  were  also  practised  in  their  elfin 
dance  with  much  better  effect.  It  was  about  this 
time  that  Archie  Forsythe  discovered  the  rehearsals 
and  offered  his  assistance,  and,  although  it  was  de- 
clined, he  frequently  managed  to  ride  over  about 
rehearsal  time,  finding  ways  to  make  himself  useful 
in  spite  of  Margaret's  polite  refusals.  Margaret 
always  felt  annoyed  when  he  came,  because  Rosa 
Rogers  instantly  became  another  creature  on  his 
arrival,  and  because  Gardley  simply  froze  into  a 
polite  statue,  never  speaking  except  when  spoken 
to.  As  for  Forsythe,  his  attitude  toward  Gardley 
was  that  of  a  contemptuous  master  toward  a  slave, 
and  yet  he  took  care  to  cover  it  always  with  a  form 
of  courtesy,  so  that  Margaret  could  say  or  do  noth- 
ing to  show  her  displeasure,  except  to  be  grave  and 
dignified.  At  such  times  Rosa  Rogers' s  eyes  would 
be  upon  her  with  a  gleam  of  hatred,  and  the  teacher 
felt  that  the  scholar  was  taking  advantage  of  the 
situation.  Altogether  it  was  a  trying  time  for  Mar- 
garet when  Forsythe  came  to  the  school-house. 
Also,  he  discovered  to  them  that  he  played  the  violin, 
and  offered  to  assist  in  the  orchestral  parts.  Mar- 
garet really  could  think  of  no  reason  to  decline  this 
offer,  but  she  was  sadly  upset  by  the  whole  thing. 
His  manner  to  her  was  too  pronounced,  and  she  felt 
continually  uncomfortable  under  it,  what  with  Rosa 
Rogers' s  jealous  eyes  upon  her  and  Gardley 's  eyes 
turned  haughtily  away. 

She  planned  a  number  of  special  rehearsals  in  the 
evenings,  when  it  was  difficult  for  Forsythe  to  get 

217 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

there,  and  managed  in  this  way  to  avoid  his  pres- 
ence; but  the  whole  matter  became  a  source  of  much 
vexation,  and  Margaret  even  shed  a  few  tears 
wearily  into  her  pillow  one  night  when  things  had 
gone  particularly  hard  and  Forsythe  had  hurt  the 
feelings  of  Fiddling  Boss  with  his  insolent  directions 
about  playing.  She  could  not  say  or  do  anything 
much  in  the  matter,  because  the  Temples  had  been 
very  kind  in  helping  to  get  the  piano,  and  Mr.  Tem- 
ple seemed  to  think  he  was  doing  the  greatest  possi- 
ble kindness  to  her  in  letting  Forsythe  off  duty  so 
much  to  help  with  the  play.  The  matter  became 
more  and  more  of  a  distress  to  Margaret,  and  the 
Sabbath  was  the  only  day  of  real  delight. 

The  first  Sunday  after  the  arrival  of  the  piano 
was  a  great  day.  Everybody  in  the  neighborhood 
turned  out  to  the  Sunday-afternoon  class  and  vesper 
service,  which  had  been  growing  more  and  more  in 
popularity,  until  now  the  school-room  was  crowded. 
Every  man  from  the  bunk-house  came  regularly, 
often  including  Pop  Wallis,  who  had  not  yet  re- 
covered fully  from  the  effect  of  his  wife's  new  bon- 
net and  fluffy  arrangement  of  hair,  but  treated  her 
like  a  lady  visitor  and  deferred  to  her  absolutely 
when  he  was  at  home.  He  wasn't  quite  sure  even 
yet  but  he  had  strayed  by  mistake  into  the  outer- 
most courts  of  heaven  and  ought  to  get  shooed  out. 
He  always  looked  at  the  rose-wreathed  curtains  with 
a  mingling  of  pride  and  awe. 

Margaret  had  put  several  hymns  on  the  black- 
board in  clear,  bold  printing,  and  the  singing  that 
day  was  wonderful.  Not  the  least  part  of  the  ser- 
vice was  her  own  playing  over  of  the  hymns  before 

218 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

the  singing  began,  which  was  listened  to  with  rever- 
ence as  if  it  had  been  the  music  of  an  angel  playing 
on  a  heavenly  harp. 

Gardley  always  came  to  the  Sunday  services,  and 
helped  her  with  the  singing,  and  often  they  two  sang 
duets  together. 

The  service  was  not  always  of  set  form.  Usually 
Margaret  taught  a  short  Bible  lesson,  beginning  witii 
the  general  outline  of  the  Bible,  its  books,  their  form, 
substance,  authors,  etc. — all  very  brief  and  exceed- 
ingly simple,  putting  a  wide  space  of  music  between 
this  and  the  vesper  service,  into  which  she  wove 
songs,  bits  of  poems,  passages  from  the  Bible,  and 
often  a  story  which  she  told  dramatically,  illus- 
trating the  scripture  read. 

But  the  very  Sunday  before  the  play,  just  the  time 
Margaret  had  looked  forward  to  as  being  her  rest 
from  all  the  perplexities  of  the  week,  a  company 
from  the  fort,  including  the  Temples,  arrived  at  the 
school-house  right  in  the  midst  of  the  Bible  lesson. 

The  ladies  were  daintily  dressed,  and  settled  their 
frills  and  ribbons  amusedly  as  they  watched  the 
embarrassed  young  teacher  trying  to  forget  that  there 
was  company  present.  They  were  in  a  distinct  sense 
" company/'  for  they  had  the  air,  as  they  entered,  of 
having  come  to  look  on  and  be  amused,  not  to  par- 
take in  the  worship  with  the  rest. 

Margaret  found  herself  trembling  inwardly  as  she 
saw  the  supercilious  smile  on  the  lips  of  Mrs.  Temple 
and  the  amused  stares  of  the  other  ladies  of  the 
party.  They  did  not  take  any  notice  of  the  other 
people  present  any  more  than  if  they  had  been  so 
many  puppets  set  up  to  show  off  the  teacher;  their 

219 


A    VOICE   IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

air  of  superiority  was  offensive.  Not  until  Rosa 
Rogers  entered  with  her  father,  a  little  later,  did  they 
condescend  to  bow  in  recognition,  and  then  with 
that  pretty  little  atmosphere  as  if  they  would  say, 
"Oh,  you've  come,  too,  to  be  amused." 

Gardley  was  sitting  up  in  front,  listening  to  her 
talk,  and  she  thought  he  had  not  noticed  the 
strangers.  Suddenly  it  came  to  her  to  try  to  keep 
her  nerve  and  let  him  see  that  they  were  nothing 
to  her;  and  with  a  strong  effort  and  a  swift  prayer 
for  help  she  called  for  a  hymn.  She  sat  coolly  down 
at  the  piano,  touching  the  keys  with  a  tender  chord 
or  two  and  beginning  to  sing  almost  at  once.  She 
had  sent  home  for  some  old  hymn-books  from  the 
Christian  Endeavor  Society  in  her  father 's  church, 
so  the  congregation  were  supplied  with  the  notes 
and  words  now,  and  everybody  took  part  eagerly, 
even  the  people  from  the  fort  condescendingly 
joining  in. 

But  Gardley  was  too  much  alive  to  every  ex- 
pression on  that  vivid  face  of  Margaret's  to  miss 
knowing  that  she  was  annoyed  and  upset.  He  did 
not  need  to  turn  and  look  back  to  immediately  dis- 
cover the  cause.  He  was  a  young  person  of  keen 
intuition.  It  suddenly  gave  him  great  satisfaction 
to  see  that  look  of  consternation  on  Margaret's  face. 
It  settled  for  him  a  question  he  had  been  in  great 
and  anxious  doubt  about,  and  his  soul  was  lifted  up 
with  peace  within  him.  When,  presently,  according 
to  arrangement,  he  rose  to  sing  a  duet  with  Mar- 
garet, no  one  could  have  possibly  told  by  so  much 
as  the  lifting  of  an  eyelash  that  he  knew  there  was 
an  enemy  of  his  in  the  back  of  the  room.  He  sang, 

220 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

as  did  Margaret,  to  the  immediate  audience  in  front 
of  him,  those  admiring  children  and  adoring  men  in 
the  forefront  who  felt  the  school-house  had  become 
for  them  the  gate  of  heaven  for  the  tune  being; 
and  he  sang  with  marvelous  feeling  and  sympathy, 
letting  out  his  voice  at  its  best. 

"  Really,"  said  Mrs.  Temple,  in  a  loud  whisper 
to  the  wife  of  one  of  the  officers,  "that  young  man 
has  a  fine  voifce,  and  he  isn't  bad-looking,  either.  I 
think  he'd  be  worth  cultivating.  We  must  have 
him  up  and  try  him  out." 

But  when  she  repeated  this  remark  in  another 
stage  whisper  to  Forsythe  he  frowned  haughtily, 

The  one  glimpse  Margaret  caught  of  Forsythe 
during  that  afternoon's  service  was  when  he  was 
smiling  meaningly  at  Rosa  Rogers;  and  she  had  to 
resolutely  put  the  memory  of  their  look  from  her 
mind  or  the  story  which  she  was  about  to  tell  would 
have  fled. 

It  was  the  hunger  in  Jasper  Kemp's  eyes  that 
finally  anchored  Margaret's  thoughts  and  helped 
her  to  forget  the  company  at  the  back  of  the  room. 
She  told  her  story,  and  she  told  it  wonderfully  and 
with  power,  interpreting  it  now  and  then  for  the 
row  of  men  who  sat  in  the  center  of  the  room  drink- 
ing in  her  every  word;  and  when  the  simple  service 
was  concluded  with  another  song,  in  which  Gardley's 
voice  ran$  forth  with  peculiar  tenderness  and 
strength,  tne  men  filed  forth  silently,  solemnly,  with 
bowed  heads  and  thoughtful  eyes.  But  the  com- 
pany from  the  fort  flowed  up  around  Margaret  like 
flood-tide  let  loose  and  gushed  upon  her. 

aOh,  my  dear!"  said  Mrs.  Temple.    ''How  beau* 
15  221 


A    VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

tifully  you  do  it!  And  such  attention  as  they  give 
you!  No  wonder  you  are  willing  to  forego  all  other 
amusements  to  stay  here  and  preach!  But  it  was 
perfectly  sweet  the  way  you  made  them  listen  and 
the  way  you  told  that  story.  I  don't  see  how  you 
do  it.  I'd  be  scared  to  death!'7 

They  babbled  about  her  awhile,  much  to  her  an- 
noyance, for  there  were  several  people  to  whom  she 
had  wanted  to  speak,  who  drew  away  and  disap- 
peared when  the  new-comers  took  possession  of  her. 
At  last,  however,  they  mounted  and  rode  away,  to 
her  great  relief.  Forsythe,  it  is  true,  tried  to  make 
her  go  home  with  them;  tried  to  escort  her  to  the 
Tanners';  tried  to  remain  in  the  school-house  with 
her  awhile  when  she  told  him  she  had  something  to 
do  there;  but  she  would  not  let  him,  and  he  rode 
away  half  sulky  at  the  last,  a  look  of  injured  pride 
upon  his  face. 

Margaret  went  to  the  door  finally,  and  looked  down 
the  road.  He  was  gone,  and  she  was  alone.  A 
shade  of  sadness  came  over  her  face.  She  was  sorry 
that  Gardley  had  not  waited.  She  had  wanted  to 
tell  him  how  much  she  liked  his  singing,  what  a 
pleasure  it  was  to  sing  with  him,  and  how  glad 
she  was  that  he  came  up  to  her  need  so  well  with 
the  strangers  there  and  helped  to  make  it  easy. 
But  Gardley  had  melted  away  as  soon  as  the  service 
was  over,  and  had  probably  gone  home  with  the  rest 
of  the  men.  It  was  disappointing,  for  she  had  come 
to  consider  their  little  time  together  on  Sunday  as  a 
very  pleasant  hour,  this  few  minutes  after  the  ser- 
vice when  they  would  talk  about  real  living  and  the 
vital  things  of  existence.  But  he  was  gone? 

222 


A    VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

She  turned,  and  there  he  was,  quite  near  the  door, 
coming  toward  her.  Her  face  lighted  up  with  a  joy 
that  was  unmistakable,  and  his  own  smile  in  answer 
was  a  revelation  of  his  deeper  self. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  are  not  gone!"  she  said, 
eagerly.  "I  wanted  to  tell  you — "  And  then  she 
stopped,  and  the  color  flooded  her  face  rosily,  for 
she  saw  in  his  eyes  how  glad  he  was  and  forgot 
to  finish  her  sentence. 

He  came  up  gravely,  after  all,  and,  standing  just 
a  minute  so  beside  the  door,  took  both  her  hands  hi 
both  his.  It  was  only  for  a  second  that  he  stood  so, 
looking  down  into  her  eyes.  I  doubt  if  either  of  them 
knew  till  afterward  that  they  had  been  holding  hands. 
It  seemed  the  right  and  natural  thing  to  do,  and 
meant  so  much  to  each  of  them.  Both  were  glad 
beyond  their  own  understanding  over  that  moment 
and  its  tenderness. 

It  was  all  very  decorous,  and  over  in  a  second,  but 
it  meant  much  to  remember  afterward,  that  look  and 
hand-clasp. 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  tenderly,  "how 
much  that  story  did  for  me.  It  was  wonderful,  and 
it  helped  me  to  decide  something  I  have  been  per- 
plexed over—" 

"Oh,  I  am  glad!"  she  said,  half  breathlessly. 

So,  talking  in  low,  broken  sentences,  they  went 
back  to  the  piano  and  tried  over  several  songs  for 
the  next  Sunday,  lingering  together,  just  happy  to  be 
there  with  each  other,  and  not  half  knowing  the  signif- 
icance of  it  all.  As  the  purple  lights  on  the  school- 
room wall  grew  long  and  rose-edged,  they  walked 
slowly  to  the  Tanner  house  and  said  good  night. 

223 


A    VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

There  was  a  beauty  about  the  young  man  as  he 
stood  for  a  moment  looking  down  upon  the  girl  in 
parting,  the  kind  of  beauty  there  is  in  any  strong, 
wild  thing  made  tame  and  tender  for  a  great  love 
by  a  great  uplift.  Gardley  had  that  look  of  self- 
surrender,  and  power  made  subservient  to  right, 
that  crowns  a  man  with  strength  and  more  than 
physical  beauty.  In  his  fine  face  there  glowed  high 
purpose,  and  deep  devotion  to  the  one  who  had 
taught  it  to  him.  Margaret,  looking  up  at  him,  felt 
her  heart  go  out  with  that  great  love,  half  maiden, 
half  divine,  that  comes  to  some  favored  women  even 
here  on  earth,  and  she  watched  him  down  the  road 
toward  the  mountain  in  the  evening  light  and  mar- 
veled how  her  trust  had  grown  since  first  she  met 
him;  marveled  and  reflected  that  she  had  not  told 
her  mother  and  father  much  about  him  yet.  It  was 
growing  time  to  do  so;  yes — it  was  growing  time! 
Her  cheeks  grew  pink  hi  the  darkness  and  she  turned 
and  fled  to  her  room. 

That  was  the  last  time  she  saw  him  before  the 
play. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  play  was  set  for  Tuesday.  Monday  after- 
noon and  evening  were  to  be  the  final  rehears- 
als, but  Gardley  did  not  come  to  them.  Fiddling 
Boss  came  late  and  said  the  men  had  been  off  all 
day  and  had  not  yet  returned.  He  himself  found 
it  hard  to  come  at  all.  They  had  important  work 
on.  But  there  was  no  word  from  Gardley. 

Margaret  was  disappointed.  She  couldn't  get 
away  from  it.  Of  course  they  could  go  on  with  the 
rehearsal  without  him.  He  had  done  his  work  well, 
and  there  was  no  real  reason  why  he  had  to  be 
there.  He  knew  every  part  by  heart,  and  could 
take  any  boy's  place  if  any  one  failed  in  any  way. 
There  was  nothing  further  really  for  him  to  do> 
until  the  performance,  as  far  as  that  was  concerned, 
except  be  there  and  encourage  her.  But  she  missed 
him,  and  an  uneasiness  grew  in  her  mind.  She  had 
so  looked  forward  to  seeing  him,  and  now  to  have 
no  word!  He  might  at  least  have  sent  her  a  note 
when  he  found  he  could  not  come. 

Still  she  knew  this  was  unreasonable.  His  work, 
whatever  it  was — he  had  never  explained  it  very 
thoroughly  to  her,  perhaps  because  she  had  never 
asked — must,  of  course,  have  kept  him.  She  must 
excuse  him  without  question  and  go  on  with  the 
business  of  the  hour. 

225 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

Her  hands  were  full  enough,  for  Forsythe  came 
presently  and  was  more  trying  than  usual.  She 
had  to  be  very  decided  and  put  her  foot  down 
about  one  or  two  things,  or  some  of  her  actors  would 
have  gone  home  in  the  sulks,  and  Fiddling  Boss, 
whose  part  in  the  program  meant  much  to  him, 
would  have  given  it  up  entirely. 

She  hurried  everything  through  as  soon  as  possible, 
knowing  she  was  weary,  and  longing  to  get  to  her 
room  and  rest.  Gardley  would  come  and  explain 
to-morrow,  likely  in  the  morning  on  his  way  some- 
where. 

But  the  morning  came  and  no  word.  Afternoon 
came  and  he  had  not  sent  a  sign  yet.  Some  of  the 
little  things  that  he  had  promised  to  do  about  the 
setting  of  the  stage  would  have  to  remain  undone, 
for  it  was  too  late  now  to  do  it  herself,  and  there  was 
no  one  else  to  call  upon. 

Into  the  midst  of  her  perplexity  and  anxiety  came 
the  news  that  Jed  on  his  way  home  had  been  thrown 
from  his  horse,  which  was  a  young  and  vicious  one, 
and  had  broken  his  leg.  Jed  was  to  act  the  part  of 
Nick  Bottom  that  evening,  and  he  did  it  well!  Now 
what  in  the  world  was  she  to  do?  If  only  Gardley 
would  come! 

Just  at  this  moment  Forsythe  arrived. 

"Oh,  it  is  you,  Mr.  Forsythe!"  And  her  tone 
showed  plainly  her  disappointment.  "Haven't  you 
seen  Mr.  Gardley  to-day?  I  don't  know  what  I  shall 
do  without  him." 

"I  certainly  have  seen  Gardley,"  said  Forsythe,  a 
spice  of  vindictiveness  and  satisfaction  in  his  tone. 
"  I  saw  him  not  two  hours  ago,  drunk  as  a  fish,  out 

226 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

at  a  place,  called  Old  Ouida's  Cabin,  as  I  was  pass- 
ing. He's  in  for  a  regular  spree.  You'll  not  see 
him  for  several  days,  I  fancy.  He's  utterly  helpless 
for  the  present,  and  out  of  the  question.  What  is 
there  I  can  do  for  you?  Present  your  request.  It's 
yours — to  the  half  of  my  kingdom." 

Margaret's  heart  grew  cold  as  ice  and  then  like 
fire.  Her  blood  seemed  to  stop  utterly  and  then  to 
go  pounding  through  her  veins  in  leaps  and  torrents. 
Her  eyes  grew  dark,  and  things  swam  before  her. ' 
She  reached  out  to  a  desk  and  caught  at  it  for  sup- 
port, and  her  white  face  looked  at  him  a  moment 
as  if  she  had  not  heard.  But  when  hi  a  second  she 
spoke,  she  said,  quite  steadily: 

"I  thank  you,  Mr.  Forsythe;  there  is  nothing  just 
at  present — or,  yes,  there  is,  if  you  wouldn't  mind 
helping  Timothy  put  up  those  curtains.  Now,  I 
think  I'll  go  home  and  rest  a  few  minutes;  I  am 
very  tired." 

It  wasn't  exactly  the  job  Forsythe  coveted,  to 
stay  in  the  school-house  and  fuss  over  those  curtains; 
but  she  made  him  do  it,  then  disappeared,  and  he 
didn't  like  the  memory  of  her  white  face.  He  hadn't 
thought  she  would  take  it  that  way.  He  had  ex- 
pected to  have  her  exclaim  with  horror  and  disgust. 
He  watched  her  out  of  the  door,  and  then  turned 
impatiently  to  the  waiting  Timothy. 

Margaret  went  outside  the  school-house  to  call 
Bud,  who  had  been  sent  to  gather  sage-brush  for 
filling  in  the  background,  but  Bud  was  already  out 
of  sight  far  on  the  trail  toward  the  camp  on  Forsythe's 
horse,  riding  for  dear  life.  Bud  had  come  near  to 
the  school-house  door  with  his  armful  of  sage-brush 

227 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

just  in  time  to  hear  Forsythe's  flippant  speech  about 
Gardley  and  see  Margaret's  white  face.  Bud  had 
gone  for  help! 

But  Margaret  did  not  go  home  to  rest.  She  did 
not  even  get  half-way  home.  When  she  had  gone 
a  very  short  distance  outside  the  school-house  she 
saw  some  one  coming  toward  her,  and  in  her  distress 
of  mind  she  could  not  tell  who  it  was.  Her  eyes 
were  blinded  with  tears,  her  breath  was  constricted, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  demon  unseen  was 
gripping  her  heart.  She  had  not  yet  taken  her 
bearings  to  know  what  she  thought.  She  had  only 
just  come  dazed  from  the  shock  of  Forsythe's  words, 
and  had  not  the  power  to  think.  Over  and  over  to 
herself,  as  she  walked  along,  she  kept  repeating  the 
words:  "I  do  not  believe  it!  It  is  not  true!77  but 
her  inner  consciousness  had  not  had  time  to  analyze 
her  soul  and  be  sure  that  she  believed  the  words 
wherewith  she  was  comforting  herself. 

So  now,  when  she  saw  some  one  coming,  she  felt 
the  necessity  of  bringing  her  telltale  face  to  order 
and  getting  ready  to  answer  whoever  she  was  to 
meet.  As  she  drew  nearer  she  became  suddenly 
aware  that  it  was  Rosa  Rogers  coming  with  her  arms 
full  of  bundles  and  more  piled  up  in  front  of  her 
on  her  pony.  Margaret  knew  at  once  that  Rosa 
must  have  seen  Forsythe  go  by  her  house,  and  had 
returned  promptly  to  the  school-house  on  some  pre- 
text or  other.  It  would  not  do  to  let  her  go  there 
alone  with  the  young  man;  she  must  go  back  and 
stay  with  them.  She  could  not  be  sure  that  if  she 
sent  Rosa  home  with  orders  to  rest  she  would 
be  obeyed.  Doubtless  the  girl  would  take  another 

228 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

way  around  and  return  to  the  school  again.  There 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  back  and  stay  as  long 
as  Rosa  did. 

Margaret  stooped  and,  hastily  plucking  a  great 
armful  of  sage-brush,  turned  around  and  retraced  her 
steps,  her  heart  like  lead,  her  feet  suddenly  grown 
heavy.  How  could  she  go  back  and  hear  them  laugh 
and  chatter,  answer  their  many  silly,  unnecessary 
questions,  and  stand  it  all?  How  could  she,  with 
that  great  weight  at  her  heart? 

She  went  back  with  a  wonderful  self-control. 
Forsythe's  face  lighted,  and  his  reluctant  hand  grew 
suddenly  eager  as  he  worked.  Rosa  came  presently, 
and  others,  and  the  laughing  chatter  went  on  quite 
as  Margaret  had  known  it  would.  And  she — so 
great  is  the  power  of  human  will  under  pressure — 
went  calmly  about  and  directed  here  and  there; 
planned  and  executed;  put  little,  dainty,  wholly  un- 
necessary touches  to  the  stage;  and  never  let  any 
one  know  that  her  heart  was  being  crushed  with  the 
weight  of  a  great,  awful  fear,  and  yet  steadily  up- 
borne by  the  rising  of  a  great,  deep  trust.  As  she 
worked  and  smiled  and  ordered,  she  was  praying: 
"Oh,  God,  don't  let  it  be  true!  Keep  him!  Save 
him!  Bring  him!  Make  him  true!  I  know  he  is 
true!  Oh,  God,  bring  him  safely  soon!" 

Meantime  there  was  nothing  she  could  do.  She 
could  not  send  Forsythe  after  him.  She  could  not 
speak  of  the  matter  to  one  of  those  present,  and  Bud 
— where  was  Bud?  It  was  the  first  tune  since  she 
came  to  Arizona  that  Bud  had  failed  her.  She 
might  not  leave  the  school-house,  with  Forsythe 
and  Rosa  there,  to  go  and  find  him,  and  she  might 

229 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

not  do  anything  else.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
work  on  feverishly  and  pray  as  she  had  never  prayed 
before. 

By  and  by  one  of  the  smaller  boys  came,  and  she 
sent  him  back  to  the  Tanners'  to  find  Bud,  but  he 
returned  with  the  message  that  Bud  had  not  been 
home  since  morning;  and  so  the  last  hours  before 
the  evening,  that  would  otherwise  have  been  so  brief 
for  all  there  was  to  be  done,  dragged  their  weary 
length  away  and  Margaret  worked  on. 

She  did  not  even  go  back  for  supper  at  the  last, 
but  sent  one  of  the  girls  to  her  room  for  a  few  things 
she  needed,  and  declined  even  the  nice  little  chicken 
sandwich  that  thoughtful  Mrs.  Tanner  sent  back 
along  with  the  things.  And  then,  at  last,  the  au- 
dience began  to  gather. 

By  this  time  her  anxiety  was  so  great  for  Gardley 
that  all  thought  of  how  she  was  to  supply  the  place 
of  the  absent  Jed  had  gone  from  her  mind,  which 
was  in  a  whirl.  Gardley!  Gardley!  If  only  Gard- 
ley would  come!  That  was  her  one  thought. 
What  should  she  do  if  he  didn't  come  at  all?  How 
should  she  explain  things  to  herself  afterward? 
What  if  it  had  been  true?  What  if  he  were  the  kind 
of  man  Forsythe  had  suggested?  How  terrible  life 
would  look  to  her!  But  it  was  not  true.  No,  it 
was  not  true!  She  trusted  him!  With  her  soul  she 
trusted  him!  He  would  come  back  some  time  and 
he  would  explain  all.  She  could  not  remember  his 
last  look  at  her  on  Sunday  and  not  trust  him.  He 
was  true!  He  would  come! 

Somehow  she  managed  to  get  through  the  terrible 
interval,  to  slip  into  the  dressing-room  and  make 

230 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

herself  sweet  and  comely  in  the  little  white  gown 
she  had  sent  for,  with  its  delicate  blue  ribbons  and 
soft  lace  ruffles.  Somehow  she  managed  the  ex- 
pected smiles  as  one  and  another  of  the  audience 
came  around  to  the  platform  to  speak  to  her.  There 
were  dark  hollows  under  her  eyes,  and  her  mouth 
was  drawn  and  weary,  but  they  laid  that  to  the 
3xcitemen.t.  Two  bright-red  spots  glowed  on  her 
cheeks;  but  she  smiled  and  talked  with  her  usual 
gaiety.  People  looked  at  her  and  said  how  beauti- 
ful she  was,  and  how  bright  and  untiring;  and  how 
wonderful  it  was  that  Ashland  School  had  drawn 
such  a  prize  of  a  teacher.  The  seats  filled,  the  noise 
and  the  clatter  went  on.  Still  no  sign  of  Gardley 
or  any  one  from  the  camp,  and  still  Bud  had  not 
returned!  What  could  it  mean? 

But  the  minutes  were  rushing  rapidly  now.  It 
was  more  than  time  to  begin.  The  girls  were  in  a 
flutter  hi  one  cloak-room  at  the  right  of  the  stage, 
asking  more  questions  in  a  minute  than  one  could 
answer  in  an  hour;  the  boys  in  the  other  cloak-room 
wanted  all  sorts  of  help;  and  three  or  four  of  the 
actors  were  attacked  with  stage -fright  as  they 
peered  through  a  hole  in  the  curtain  and  saw  some 
friend  or  relative  arrive  and  sit  down  in  the  audi- 
ence. It  was  all  a  mad  whirl  of  seemingly  useless 
noise  and  excitement,  and  she  could  not,  no,  she 
could  not,  go  on  and  do  the  necessary  things  to  start 
that  awful  play.  Why,  oh,  why  had  she  ever  been 
left  to  think  of  getting  up  a  play? 

Forsythe,  up  behind  the  piano,  whispered  to  her 
that  it  was  time  to  begin.  The  house  was  full. 
There  was  not  room  for  another  soul.  Margaret  ex- 

231 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

plained  that  Fiddling  Boss  had  not  yet  arrived, 
and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  cunning  designs  of 
Forsythe  in  the  shifty  turning  away  of  his  eyes  as 
he  answered  that  they  could  not  wait  all  night  for 
him;  that  if  he  wanted  to  get  into  it  he  ought  to 
have  come  early.  But  even  as  she  turned  away  she 
saw  the  little,  bobbing,  eager  faces  of  Pop  and  Mom 
Wallis  away  back  by  the  door,  and  the  grim,  tower- 
ing figure  of  the  Boss,  his  fiddle  held  high,  making 
his  way  to  the  front  amid  the  crowd. 

She  sat  down  and  touched  the  keys,  her  eyes 
watching  eagerly  for  a  chance  to  speak  to  the  Boss 
and  see  if  he  knew  anything  of  Gardley ;  but  Forsythe 
was  close  beside  her  all  the  time,  and  there  was  no 
opportunity.  She  struck  the  opening  chords  of  the 
overture  they  were  to  attempt  to  play,  and  some- 
how got  through  it.  Of  course,  the  audience  was 
not  a  critical  one,  and  there  were  few  real  judges  of 
music  present;  but  it  may  be  that  the  truly  wonder- 
ful effect  she  produced  upon  the  listeners  was  due 
to  the  fact  that  she  was  playing  a  prayer  with  her 
heart  as  her  fingers  touched  the  keys,  and  that  in- 
stead of  a  preliminary  to  a  fairy  revel  the  music 
told  the  story  of  a  great  soul  struggle,  and  reached 
hearts  as  it  tinkled  and  rolled  and  swelled  on  to 
the  end.  It  may  be,  too,  that  Fiddling  Boss  was 
more  in  sympathy  that  night  with  his  accompanist 
than  was  the  other  violinist,  and  that  was  why  his 
old  fiddle  brought  forth  such  weird  and  tender  tones. 

Almost  to  the  end,  with  her  heart  sobbing  its 
trouble  to  the  keys,  Margaret  looked  up  sadly,  and 
there,  straight  before  her  through  a  hole  in  the 
curtain  made  by  some  rash  youth  to  glimpse  th& 

232 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

audience,  or  perhaps  even  put  there  by  the  owner 
of  the  nose  itself,  she  saw  the  little,  freckled,  turned- 
up  member  belonging  to  Bud's  face.  A  second 
more  and  a  big,  bright  eye  appeared  and  solemnly 
winked  at  her  twice,  as  if  to  say,  "Don't  you  worry; 
it's  all  right!" 

She  almost  started  from  the  stool,  but  kept  her  head 
enough  to  finish  the  chords,  and  as  they  died  away 
she  heard  a  hoarse  whisper  in  Bud's  familiar  voice: 

"Whoop  her  up,  Miss  Earle.  We're  all  ready. 
Raise  the  curtain  there,  you  guy.  Let  her  rip. 
Everything's  O.  K." 

With  a  leap  of  light  into  her  eyes  Margaret  turned 
the  leaves  of  the  music  and  went  on  playing  as  she 
should  have  done  if  nothing  had  been  the  matter. 
Bud  was  there,  anyway,  and  that  somehow  cheered 
her  heart.  Perhaps  Gardley  had  come  or  Bud  had 
heard  of  him — and  yet,  Bud  didn't  know  he  had 
been  missing,  for  Bud  had  been  away  himself. 

Nevertheless,  she  summoned  courage  to  go  on 
playing.  Nick  Bottom  wasn't  hi  this  first  scene, 
anyway,  and  this  would  have  to  be  gone  through 
with  somehow.  By  this  time  she  was  in  a  state  of 
daze  that  only  thought  from  moment  to  moment. 
The  end  of  the  evening  seemed  now  to  her  as  far  off 
as  the  end  of  a  hale  old  age  seems  at  the  beginning 
of  a  lifetime.  Somehow  she  must  walk  through  it;i 
but  she  could  only  see  a  step  at  a  time. 

Once  she  turned  half  sideways  to  the  audience  and 
gave  a  hurried  glance  about,  catching  sight  of 
Fudge's  round,  near-sighted  face,  and  that  gave  her 
encouragement.  Perhaps  the  others  were  some- 
where present.  If  only  she  could  get  a  chance  to 

233 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

whisper  to  some  one  from  the  camp  and  ask  when 
they  had  seen  Gardley  last!  But  there  was  no 
chance,  of  course! 

The  curtain  was  rapidly  raised  and  the  opening 
scene  of  the  play  began,  the  actors  going  through 
their  parts  with  marvelous  ease  and  dexterity,  and 
the  audience  silent  and  charmed,  watching  those 
strangers  in  queer  costumes  that  were  then:  own 
children,  marching  around  there  at  their  ease  and 
talking  weird  language  that  was  not  used  in  any 
class  of  society  they  had  ever  come  across  on  sea 
or  land  before. 

But  Margaret,  watching  her  music  as  best  she 
could,  and  playing  mechanically  rather  than  with 
her  mind,  could  not  tell  if  they  were  doing  well  or 
ill,  so  loudly  did  her  heart  pound  out  her  fears — so 
stoutly  did  her  heart  proclaim  her  trust. 

And  thus,  without  a  flaw  or  mistake  in  the  execu- 
tion of  the  work  she  had  struggled  so  hard  to  teach 
them,  the  first  scene  of  the  first  act  drew  to  its  close, 
and  Margaret  struck  the  final  chords  of  the  music 
and  felt  that  in  another  minute  she  must  reel  and 
fall  from  that  piano-stool.  And  yet  she  sat  and 
watched  the  curtain  fall  with  a  face  as  controlled 
as  if  nothing  at  all  were  the  matter. 

A  second  later  she  suddenly  knew  that  to  sit  in 
that  place  calmly  another  second  was  a  physical  im- 
possibility. She  must  get  somewhere  to  the  air  at 
once  or  her  senses  would  desert  her. 

With  a  movement  so  quick  that  no  one  could  have 
anticipated  it,  she  slipped  from  her  piano-stool, 
under  the  curtain  to  the  stage,  and  was  gone  before 
the  rest  of  the  orchestra  had  noticed  her  intention. 

234 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

SINCE  the  day  that  he  had  given  Margaret  his 
promise  to  make  good,  Gardley  had  been  regu- 
larly employed  by  Mr.  Rogers,  looking  after  impor- 
tant matters  of  his  ranch.  Before  that  he  had  lived 
a  free  and  easy  life,  working  a  little  now  and  then 
when  it  seemed  desirable  to  him,  having  no  set  in- 
terest in  life,  and  only  endeavoring  from  day  to  day 
to  put  as  far  as  possible  from  his  mind  the  life  he 
had  left  behind  him.  Now,  however,  all  things  be- 
came different.  He  brought  to  his  service  the  keen 
mind  and  ready  ability  that  had  made  him  easily  a 
winner  at  any  game,  a  brave  rider,  and  a  never-failing 
shot.  Within  a  few  days  Rogers  saw  what  material 
was  in  him,  and  as  the  weeks  went  by  grew  to  de- 
pend more  and  more  upon  his  advice  in  matters. 

There  had  been  much  trouble  with  cattle  thieves, 
and  so  far  no  method  of  stopping  the  loss  or  catch- 
ing the  thieves  had  been  successful.  Rogers  finally 
put  the  matter  into  Gardley's  hands  to  carry  out 
his  own  ideas,  with  the  men  of  the  camp  at  his  com-/ 
mand  to  help  him,  the  camp  itself  being  only  a 
part  of  Rogers's  outlying  possessions,  one  of  several 
such  centers  from  which  he  worked  his  growing 
interests. 

Gardley  had  formulated  a  scheme  by  which  he 

235 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

hoped  eventually  to  get  hold  of  the  thieves  and  put 
a  stop  to  the  trouble,  and  he  was  pretty  sure  he  was 
on  the  right  track;  but  his  plan  required  slow  and 
cautious  work,  that  the  enemy  might  not  suspect  and 
take  to  cover.  He  had  for  several  weeks  suspected 
that  the  thieves  made  their  headquarters  in  the 
region  of  Old  Ouida's  Cabin,  and  made  their  raids 
from  that  direction.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  of 
late  the  woods  and  trails  in  the  vicinity  of  Ouida's 
had  been  secretly  patrolled  day  and  night,  and  every 
passer-by  taken  note  of,  until  Gardley  knew  just 
who  were  the  frequenters  of  that  way  and  mostly 
what  was  their  business.  This  work  was  done  alter- 
nately by  the  men  of  the  Wallis  camp  and  two  other 
camps,  Gardley  being  the  head  of  all  and  carrying 
all  responsibility;  and  not  the  least  of  that  young 
man's  offenses  in  the  eyes  of  Rosa  Rogers  was  that 
he  was  so  constantly  at  her  father's  house  and  yet 
never  lifted  an  eye  in  admiration  of  her  pretty 
face.  She  longed  to  humiliate  him,  and  through 
him  to  humiliate  Margaret,  who  presumed  to  inter- 
fere with  her  flirtations,  for  it  was  a  bitter  thing 
to  Rosa  that  Forsythe  had  no  eyes  for  her  when 
Margaret  was  about. 

When  the  party  from  the  fort  rode  homeward 
that  Sunday  after  the  service  at  the  school-house, 
Forsythe  lingered  behind  to  talk  to  Margaret,  and 
then  rode  around  by  the  Rogers  place,  where  Rosa 
and  he  had  long  ago  established  a  trysting-place. 

^Rosa  was  watching  for  his  passing,  and  he  stopped 
a  half-hour  or  so  to  talk  to  her.  During  this  tune 
she  casually  disclosed  to  Forsythe  some  of  the  plans 
she  had  overheard  Gardley  laying  before  her  father. 

236 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

Rosa  had  very  little  idea  of  the  importance  of  Card- 
ley's  work  to  her  father,  or  perhaps  she  would  not 
have  so  readily  prattled  of  his  affairs.  Her  main 
idea  was  to  pay  back  Gardley  for  his  part  in  her 
humiliation  with  Forsythe.  She  suggested  that  it 
would  be  a  great  thing  if  Gardley  could  be  prevented 
from  being  at  the  play  Tuesday  evening,  and  told 
what  she  had  overheard  him  saying  to  her  father 
merely  to  show  Forsythe  how  easy  it  would  be  to 
have  Cardley  detained  on  Tuesday.  Forsythe  ques- 
tioned Rosa  keenly.  Did  she  know  whom  they  sus- 
pected? Did  she  know  what  they  were  planning  to 
do  to  catch  them,  and  when? 

Rosa  innocently  enough  disclosed  all  she  knew, 
little  thinking  how  dishonorable  to  her  father  it  was, 
and  perhaps  caring  as  little,  for  Rosa  had  ever  been 
a  spoiled  child,  accustomed  to  subordinating  every- 
thing within  reach  to  her  own  uses.  As  for  Forsythe, 
he  was  nothing  loath  to  get  rid  of  Gardley,  and  he 
saw  more  possibilities  in  Rosa's  suggestion  than  she 
had  seen  herself.  When  at  last  he  bade  Rosa  good 
night  and  rode  unobtrusively  back  to  the  trail  he 
was  already  formulating  a  plan. 

It  was,  therefore,  quite  in  keeping  with  his  wishes 
that  he  should  meet  a  dark-browed  rider  a  few  miles 
farther  up  the  trail  whose  identity  he  had  happened 
to  learn  a  few  days  before. 

Now  Forsythe  would,  perhaps,  not  have  dared  to 
enter  into  any  compact  against  Gardley  with  men 
of  such  ill-repute  had  it  been  a  matter  of  money  and 
bribery,  but,  armed  as  he  was  with  information 
valuable  to  the  criminals,  he  could  so  word  his  sug- 
gestion about  Gardley's  detention  as  to  make  the 

16  237 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

hunted  men  think  it  to  their  advantage  to  catch 
Gardley  some  time  the  next  day  when  he  passed 
their  way  and  imprison  him  for  a  while.  This  would 
appear  to  be  but  a  friendly  bit  of  advice  from  a 
disinterested  party  deserving  a  good  turn  some 
time  in  the  future  and  not  get  Forsythe  into 
any  trouble.  As  such  it  was  received  by  the  wretch, 
who  clutched  at  the  information  with  ill-concealed 
delight  and  rode  away  into  the  twilight  like  a  ser- 
pent threading  his  secret,  gliding  way  among  the 
darkest  places,  scarcely  rippling  the  air,  so  stealthily 
did  he  pass. 

As  for  Forsythe,  he  rode  blithely  to  the  Temple 
ranch,  with  no  thought  of  the  forces  he  had  set 
going,  his  life  as  yet  one  round  of  trying  to  please 
himself  at  others'  expense,  if  need  be,  but  please 
himself,  anyway,  with  whatever  amusement  the 
hour  afforded. 

At  home  in  the  East,  where  his  early  life  had  been 
spent,  a  splendid  girl  awaited  his  dilatory  letters 
and  set  herself  patiently  to  endure  the  months  of 
separation  until  he  should  have  attained  a  home 
and  a  living  and  be  ready  for  her  to  come  to  him. 

In  the  South,  where  he  had  idled  six  months 
before  he  went  West,  another  lovely  girl  cherished 
mementoes  of  his  tarrying  and  wrote  him  loving 
letters  in  reply  to  his  occasional  erratic  epistles. 

Out  on  the  Calif ornian  shore  a  girl  with  whom  he 
had  traveled  West  in  her  uncle's  luxurious  private 
car,  with  a  gay  party  of  friends  and  relatives, 
cherished  fond  hopes  of  a  visit  he  had  promised  to 
make  her  during  the  winter. 

Innumerable  maidens  of  this  world,  wise  in  the 

238 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

wisdom  that  crushes  hearts,  remembered  him  with 
a  sigh  now  and  then,  but  held  no  illusions  concern- 
ing his  kind. 

Pretty  little  Rosa  Rogers  cried  her  eyes  out  every 
time  he  cast  a  languishing  look  at  her  teacher,  and 
several  of  the  ladies  of  the  fort  sighed  that  the  glance 
of  his  eye  and  the  gentle  pressure  of  his  hand  could 
only  be  a  passing  joy.  But  the  gay  Lothario  passed 
on  his  way  as  yet  without  a  scratch  on  the  hard 
enamel  of  his  heart,  till  one  wondered  if  it  were  a 
heart,  indeed,  or  perhaps  only  a  metal  imitation. 
But  girls  like  Margaret  Earle,  though  they  sometimes 
were  attracted  by  him,  invariably  distrusted  him. 
He  was  like  a  beautiful  spotted  snake  that  was 
often  caught  menacing  something  precious,  but  you 
could  put  him  down  anywhere  after  punishment  or 
imprisonment  and  he  would  slide  on  his  same  slip- 
pery way  and  still  be  a  spotted,  deadly  snake. 

When  Gardley  left  the  camp  that  Monday  morn- 
ing following  the  walk  home  with  Margaret  from 
the  Sabbath  service,  he  fully  intended  to  be  back  at 
the  school-house  Monday  by  the  time  the  afternoon 
rehearsal  began.  His  plans  were  so  laid  that  he 
thought  relays  from  other  camps  were  to  guard  the 
suspected  ground  for  the  next  three  days  and  he 
could  be  free.  It  had  been  a  part  of  the  informa- 
tion that  Forsythe  had  given  the  stranger  that  Gard- 
ley would  likely  pass  a  certain  lonely  crossing  of  the 
trail  at  about  three  o'clock  that  afternoon,  and,  had 
that  arrangement  been  carried  out,  the  men  who  lay 
in  wait  for  him  would  doubtless  have  been  pleased 
to  have  their  plans  mature  so  easily;  but  they  would 
not  have  been  pleased  long,  for  Gardley's  men  were 

239 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

so  near  at  hand  at  that  time,  watching  that  very 
spot  with  eyes  and  ears  and  long-distance  glasses, 
that  their  chief  would  soon  have  been  rescued  and 
the  captors  be  themselves  the  captured. 

But  the  men  from  the  farther  camp,  called  "Lone 
Fox"  men,  did  not  arrive  on  time,  perhaps  through 
some  misunderstanding,  and  Gardley  and  Kemp  and 
then*  men  had  to  do  double  time.  At  last,  later  in 
the  afternoon,  Gardley  volunteered  to  go  to  Lone 
Fox  and  bring  back  the  men. 

As  he  rode  his  thoughts  were  of  Margaret,  and 
he  was  seeing  again  the  look  of  gladness  in  her  eyes 
when  she  found  he  had  not  gone  yesterday;  feeling 
again  the  thrill  of  her  hands  in  his,  the  trust  of  her 
smile!  It  was  incredible,  wonderful,  that  God  had 
sent  a  veritable  angel  into  the  wilderness  to  bring 
him  to  himself;  and  now  he  was  wondering,  could 
it  be  that  there  was  really  hope  that  he  could  ever 
make  good  enough  to  dare  to  ask  her  io  marry  him. 
The  sky  and  the  air  were  rare,  but  his  thoughts 
were  rarer  still,  and  his  soul  was  lifted  up  with  joy. 
He  was  earning  good  wages  now.  In  two  more  weeks 
he  would  have  enough  to  pay  back  the  paltry 
sum  for  the  lack  of  which  he  had  fled  from  his  old 
home  and  come  to  the  wilderness.  He  would  go 
back,  of  course,  and  straighten  out  the  old  score. 
Then  what?  Should  he  stay  hi  the  East  and  go 
back  to  the  old  business  wherewith  he  had  hoped 
to  make  his  name  honored  and  gain  wealth,  or  should 
he  return  to  this  wild,  free  land  again  and  start 
anew? 

His  mother  was  dead.  Perhaps  if  she  had  lived 
and  cared  he  would  have  made  good  in  the  first  place. 

240 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

His  sisters  were  both  married  to  wealthy  men  and 
not  deeply  interested  hi  him.  He  had  disappointed 
and  mortified  them;  their  lives  were  filled  with  social 
duties;  they  had  never  missed  him.  His  father  had 
been  dead  many  years.  As  for  his  uncle,  his  mother's 
brother,  whose  heir  he  was  to  have  been  before  he 
got  himself  into  disgrace,  he  decided  not  to  go  near 
him.  He  would  stay  as  long  as  he  must  to  undo  the 
wrong  he  had  done.  He  would  call  on  his  sisters 
and  then  come  back;  come  back  and  let  Margaret 
decide  what  she  wanted  him  to  do — that  is,  if  she 
would  consent  to  link  her  life  with  one  who  had  been 
once  a  failure.  Margaret!  How  wonderful  she  was ! 
If  Margaret  said  he  ought  to  go  back  and  be  a  lawyer, 
he  would  go — yes,  even  if  he  had  to  enter  his  uncle's 
office  as  an  underling  to  do  it.  His  soul  loathed  the 
idea,  but  he  would  do  it  for  Margaret,  if  she  thought 
it  best.  And  so  he  mused  as  he  rode! 

When  the  Lone  Fox  camp  was  reached  and  the 
men  sent  out  on  then1  belated  task,  Gardley  decided 
not  to  go  with  them  back  to  meet  Kemp  and  the 
other  men,  but  sent  word  to  Kemp  that  he  had  gone 
the  shprt  cut  to  Ashland,  hoping  to  get  to  a  part  of 
the  evening  rehearsal  yet. 

Now  that  short  cut  led  him  to  the  lonely  crossing 
( of  the  trail  much  sooner  than  Kemp  and  the  others 
could  reach  it  from  the  rendezvous;  and  there  in 
cramped  positions,  and  with  much  unnecessary 
cursing  and  impatience,  four  strong  masked  men 
had  been  concealed  for  four  long  hours. 

Through  the  stillness  of  the  twilight  rode  Gardley, 
thinking  of  Margaret,  and  for  once  utterly  off  his 
guard.  His  long  day's  work  was  done,  and  though 

241 


A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

he  had  not  been  able  to  get  back  when  he  planned, 
he  was  free  now,  free  until  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
He  would  go  at  once  to  her  and  see  if  there  was 
anything  she  wanted  him  to  do. 

Then,  as  if  to  help  along  his  enemies,  he  began  to 
hum  a  song,  his  clear,  high  voice  reaching  keenly  to 
the  ears  of  the  men  in  ambush: 

'  Oh,  the  time  is  long,  mavourneen, 
Till  I  come  again,  O  mavourneen — '  " 

"And  the  toime  '11  be  longer  thun  iver,  oim  think- 
in',  ma  purty  little  voorneen!"  said  an  unmistakable 
voice  of  Erin  through  the  gathering  dusk. 

Gardley's  horse  stopped  and  Gardley's  hand 
went  to  his  revolver,  while  his  other  hand  lifted  the 
silver  whistle  to  his  lips;  but  four  guns  bristled  at 
him  in  the  twilight,  the  whistle  was  knocked  from 
his  lips  before  his  breath  had  even  reached  it, 
some  one  caught  his  arms  from  behind,  and  his 
own  weapon  was  wrenched  from  his  hand  as  it 
went  off.  The  cry  which  he  at  once  sent  forth 
was  stifled  in  its  first  whisper  in  a  great  muffling 
garment  flung  over  his  head  and  drawn  tightly  about 
his  neck.  He  was  in  a  fair  way  to  strangle,  and  his 
vigorous  efforts  at  escape  were  useless  in  the 
hands  of  so  many.  He  might  have  been  plunged 
at  once  into  a  great  abyss  of  limitless,  soundless 
depths,  so  futile  did  any  resistance  seem.  And 
so,  as  it  was  useless  to  struggle,  he  lay  like  one  dead 
and  put  all  his  powers  into  listening.  But  neither 
could  he  hear  much,  muffled  as  he  was,  and  bound 
hand  and  foot  now,  with  a  gag  in  his  mouth  and 
little  care  taken  whether  he  could  even  breathe. 

242 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

They  were  leading  him  off  the  trail  and  up  over 
rough  ground;  so  much  he  knew,  for  the  horse 
stumbled  and  jolted  and  strained  to  carry  him. 
To  keep  his  whirling  senses  alive  and  alert  he  tried 
to  think  where  they  might  be  leading  him;  but  the 
darkness  and  the  suffocation  dulled  his  powers.  He 
wondered  idly  if  his  men  would  miss  him  and  come 
back  when  they  got  home  to  search  for  him,  and 
then  remembered  with  a  pang  that  they  would 
think  him  safely  in  Ashland,  helping  Margaret. 
They  would  not  be  alarmed  if  he  did  not  return  that 
night,  for  they  would  suppose  he  had  stopped  at 
Rogers's  on  the  way  and  perhaps  stayed  all  night,  as 
he  had  done  once  or  twice  before.  Margaret!  When 
should  he  see  Margaret  now?  What  would  she 
think? 

And  then  he  swooned  away. 

When  he  came  somewhat  to  himself  he  was  in  a 
close,  stifling  room  where  candle-light  from  a  dis- 
tance threw  weird  shadows  over  the  adobe  walls. 
The  witch-like  voices  of  a  woman  and  a  girl  in  harsh, 
cackling  laughter,  half  suppressed,  were  not  far  away, 
and  some  one,  whose  face  was  covered,  was  holding  a 
glass  to  his  lips.  The  smell  was  sickening,  and  he 
remembered  that  he  hated  the  thought  of  liquor. 
It  did  not  fit  with  those  who  companied  with  Mar- 
garet. He  had  never  cared  for  it,  and  had  resolved 
never  to  taste  it  again.  But  whether  he  chose  or 
not,  the  liquor  was  poured  down  his  throat.  Huge 
hands  held  him  and  forced  it,  and  he  was  still  bound 
and  too  weak  to  resist,  even  if  he  had  realized  the 
necessity. 

The  liquid  burned  its  way  down  his  throat  and 

243 


A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

seethed  into  his  brain,  and  a  great  darkness,  mingled 
with  men's  wrangling  voices  and  much  cursing, 
swirled  about  him  like  some  furious  torrent  of  angry 
waters  that  finally  submerged  his  consciousness. 
Then  came  deeper  darkness  and  a  blank  relief  from 
pain. 

Hours  passed.  He  heard  sounds  sometimes,  and 
dreamed  dreams  which  he  could  not  tell  from  reality. 
He  saw  his  friends  with  terror  written  on  their  faces, 
while  he  lay  apathetically  and  could  not  stir.  He 
saw  tears  on  Margaret's  face;  and  once  he  was  sure 
he  heard  Forsythe's  voice  in  contempt:  "Well,  he 
seems  to  be  well  occupied  for  the  present!  No 
danger  of  his  waking  up  for  a  while!"  and  then  the 
voices  all  grew  dim  and  far  away  again,  and  only 
an  old  crone  and  the  harsh  girl's  whisper  over  him; 
and  then  Margaret's  tears — tears  that  fell  on  his 
heart  from  far  above,  and  seemed  to  melt  out  all  his 
early  sins  and  flood  him  with  their  horror.  Tears  and 
the  consciousness  that  he  ought  to  be  doing  some- 
thing for  Margaret  now  and  could  not.  Tears — 
and  more  darkness! 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WHEN  Margaret  arrived  behind  the  curtain  she 
was  aware  of  many  cries  and  questions  hurled 
at  her  like  an  avalanche,  but,  ignoring  them  all,  she 
sprang  past  the  noisy,  excited  group  of  young  peo- 
ple, darted  through  the  dressing-room  to  the  right 
and  out  into  the  night  and  coolness.  Her  head  was 
swimming,  and  things  went  black  before  her  eyes. 
She  felt  that  her  breath  was  going,  going,  and  she 
must  get  to  the  air. 

But  when  she  passed  the  hot  wave  of  the  school- 
room, and  the  sharp  air  of  the  night  struck  her  face, 
consciousness  seemed  to  turn  and  come  back  into 
her  again;  for  there  over  her  head  was  the  wide- 
ness  of  the  vast,  starry  Arizona  night,  and  there, 
before  her,  in  Nick  Bottom's  somber  costume,  eat- 
ing one  of  the  chicken  sandwiches  that  Mrs.  Tanner 
had  sent  down  to  her,  stood  Gardley!  He  was  pale 
and  shaken  from  his  recent  experience;  but  he  was 
undaunted,  and  when  he  saw  Margaret  coming  tow- 
ard him  through  the  doorway  with  her  soul  hi  her 
eyes  and  her  spirit  all  aflame  with  joy  and  relief, 
he  came  to  meet  her  under  the  stars,  and,  forgetting 
everything  else,  just  folded  her  gently  in  his  arms! 

It  was  a  most  astonishing  thing  to  do,  of  course, 
right  there  outside  the  dressing-room  door,  with  the 
curtain  just  about  to  rise  on  the  scene  and  Gardley 7s 

245 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

wig  was  not  on  yet.  He  had  not  even  asked  nor  ob- 
tained permission.  But  the  soul  sometimes  grows 
impatient  waiting  for  the  lips  to  speak,  and  Mar- 
garet felt  her  trust  had  been  justified  and  her  heart 
had  found  its  home.  Right  there  behind  the  school- 
house,  out  in  the  great  wide  night,  while  the  crowded, 
clamoring  audience  waited  for  them,  and  the  young 
actors  grew  frantic,  they  plighted  their  troth,  his 
lips  upon  hers,  and  with  not  a  word  spoken. 

Voices  from  the  dressing-room  roused  them. 
"Come  in  quick,  Mr.  Gardley;  it's  tune  for  the 
curtain  to  rise,  and  everybody  is  ready.  Where  on 
earth  has  Miss  Earle  vanished?  Miss  Earle!  Oh, 
Miss  Earle!" 

There  was  a  rush  to  the  dressing-room  to  find  the 
missing  ones;  but  Bud,  as  ever,  present  where  was 
the  most  need,  stood  with  his  back  to  the  outside 
world  in  the  door  of  the  dressing-room  and  called 
loudly: 

"They're  comin',  all  right.  Go  on!  Get  to  your 
places.  Miss  Earle  says  to  get  to  your  places." 

The  two  in  the  darkness  groped  for  each  other's 
hands  as  they  stood  suddenly  apart,  and  with  one 
quick  pressure  and  a  glance  hurried  in.  There  was 
not  any  need  for  words.  They  understood,  these 
two,  and  trusted. 

With  her  cheeks  glowing  now,  and  her  eyes  like 
two  stars,  Margaret  fled  across  the  stage  and  took 
her  place  at  the  piano  again,  just  as  the  curtain 
began  to  be  drawn;  and  Forsythe,  who  had  been 
slightly  uneasy  at  the  look  on  her  face  as  she  left 
them,  wondered  now  and  leaned  forward  to  tell  her 
how  well  she  was  looking. 

246 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

He  kept  his  honeyed  phrase  to  himself,  however, 
for  she  was  not  heeding  him.  Her  eyes  were  on  the 
rising  curtain,  and  Forsythe  suddenly  remembered 
that  this  was  the  scene  in  which  Jed  was  to  have 
appeared — and  Jed  had  a  broken  leg!  What  had 
Margaret  done  about  it?  It  was  scarcely  a  part 
that  could  be  left  out.  Why  hadn't  he  thought  of 
it  sooner  and  offered  to  take  it?  He  could  have 
bluffed  it  out  somehow — he  had  heard  it  so  much — 
made  up  words  where  he  couldn't  remember  them 
all,  and  it  would  have  been  a  splendid  opportunity 
to  do  some  real  love-making  with  Rosa.  Why 
hadn't  he  thought  of  it?  Why  hadn't  Rosa?  Per- 
haps she  hadn't  heard  about  Jed  soon  enough  to 
suggest  it. 

The  curtain  was  fully  open  now,  and  Bud's  voice 
as  Peter  Quince,  a  trifle  high  and  cracked  with  ex- 
citement, broke  the  stillness,  while  the  awed  au- 
dience gazed  upon  this  new,  strange  world  presented 
to  them. 

"Is  all  our  company  here?"  lilted  out  Bud,  ex- 
citedly, and  Nick  Bottom  replied  with  Gardley's 
voice: 

"You  were  best  to  call  them  generally,  man  by 
man,  according  to  the  scrip." 

Forsythe  turned  deadly  white.  Jasper  Kemp, 
whose  keen  eye  was  upon  him,  saw  it  through  the 
tan,  saw  his  lips  go  pale  and  purple  points  of  fear 
start  in  his  eyes,  as  he  looked  and  looked  again,  and 
could  not  believe  his  senses. 

Furtively  he  darted  a  glance  around,  like  one 
about  to  steal  away;  then,  seeing  Jasper  Kemp's 
eyes  upon  him,  settled  back  with  a  strained  look 

247 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

upon  his  face.  Once  he  stole  a  look  at  Margaret 
and  caught  her  face  all  transfigured  with  great  joy; 
looked  again  and  felt  rebuked  somehow  by  the  pure- 
ness  of  her  maiden  joy  and  trust. 

Not  once  had  she  turned  her  eyes  to  his.  He  was 
forgotten,  and  somehow  he  knew  the  look  he  would 
get  if  she  should  see  him.  It  would  be  contempt  and 
scorn  that  would  burn  his  very  soul.  It  is  only  a 
maid  now  and  then  to  whom  it  is  given  thus  to  pierce 
and  bruise  the  soul  of  a  man  who  plays  with  love 
and  trust  and  womanhood  for  selfishness.  Such  a 
woman  never  knows  her  power.  She  punishes  all 
unconscious  to  herself.  It  was  so  that  Margaret 
Earle,  without  being  herself  aware,  and  by  her  very 
indifference  and  contempt,  showed  the  little  soul  of 
this  puppet  man  to  himself. 

He  stole  away  at  last  when  he  thought  no  one 
was  looking,  and  reached  the  back  of  the  school- 
house  at  the  open  door  of  the  girls'  dressing-room, 
where  he  knew  Titania  would  be  posing  in  between 
the  acts.  He  beckoned  her  to  his  side  and  began 
to  question  her  hi  quick,  eager,  almost  angry  tones, 
as  if  the  failure  of  their  plans  were  her  fault.  Had 
her  father  been  at  home  all  day?  Had  anything 
happened — any  one  been  there?  Did  Gardley  come? 
Had  there  been  any  report  from  the  men?  Had  that 
short,  thick-set  Scotchman  with  the  ugly  grin  been 
there?  She  must  remember  that  she  was  the  one 
to  suggest  the  scheme  in  the  first  place,  and  it  was 
her  business  to  keep  a  watch.  There  was  no  telling 
now  what  might  happen.  He  turned,  and  there  stood 
Jasper  Kemp  close  to  his  elbow,  his  short  stature 
drawn  to  its  full,  his  thick-set  shoulders  squaring 

248 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

themselves,  his  ugly  grin  standing  out  in  bold  relief, 
menacingly,  in  the  night. 

The  young  man  let  forth  some  words  not  in  a 
gentleman's  code,  and  turned  to  leave  the  frightened 
girl,  who  by  this  tune  was  almost  crying;  but  Jasper 
Kemp  kept  pace  with  Forsythe  as  he  walked. 

"Was  you  addressing  me?"  he  asked,  politely; 
"because  I  could  tell  you  a  few  things  a  sight  more 
appropriate  for  you  than  what  you  just  handed 
to  me." 

Forsythe  hurried  around  to  the  front  of  the  school- 
house,  making  no  reply. 

"Nice,  pleasant  evening  to  be/ree,"  went  on  Jasper 
Kemp,  looking  up  at  the  stars.  "Rather  onpleasant 
for  some  folks  that  have  to  be  shut  up  in  jail." 

Forsythe  wheeled  upon  him.  "What  do  you 
mean?"  he  demanded,  angrily,  albeit  he  was  white 
with  fear. 

"Oh,  nothing  much,"  drawled  Jasper,  affably. 
"I  was  just  thinking  how  much  pleasanter  it  was  to 
be  a  free  man  than  shut  up  hi  prison  on  a  night  like 
this.  It's  so  much  healthier,  you  know." 

Forsythe  looked  at  him  a  moment,  a  kind  of  panic 
of  intelligence  growing  in  his  face;  then  he  turned 
and  went  toward  the  back  of  the  school-house> 
where  he  had  left  his  horse  some  hours  before. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  demanded  Jasper.  "It's 
'most  time  you  went  back  to  your  fiddling,  ain't  it?" 

But  Forsythe  answered  him  not  a  word.  He  was 
mounting  his  horse  hurriedly — his  horse,  which,  ali 
unknown  to  him,  had  been  many  miles  since  he  last 
rode  him. 

"You  think  you  have  to  go,  then?"  said  Jasper, 

249 


A   VOICE   IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

deprecatingly.  "Well,  now,  that's  a  pity,  seeing  you 
was  fiddling  so  nice  an'  all.  Shall  I  tell  them  you've 
gone  for  your  health?" 

Thus  recalled,  Forsythe  stared  at  his  tormentor 
wildly  for  a  second.  "Tell  her — tell  her" — he  mut- 
tered, hoarsely — "tell  her  I've  been  taken  suddenly 
ill."  And  he  was  off  on  a  wild  gallop  toward  the 
fort. 

"I'll  tell  her  you've  gone  for  your  health!"  called 
Jasper  Kemp,  with  his  hands  to  his  mouth  like  a 
megaphone.  "I  reckon  he  won't  return  again  very 
soon,  either,"  he  chuckled.  "This  country's  better 
off  without  such  pests  as  him  an'  that  measley 
parson."  Then,  turning,  he  beheld  Titania,  the 
queen  of  the  fairies,  white  and  frightened,  staring 
wildly  into  the  starry  darkness  after  the  departed 
rider.  "Poor  little  fool!"  he  muttered  under  his 
breath  as  he  looked  at  the  girl  and  turned  away. 
"Poor,  pretty  little  fool!"  Suddenly  he  stepped  up 
to  her  side  and  touched  her  white-clad  shoulder 
gently.  "Don't  you  go  for  to  care,  lassie/'  he  said 
in  a  tender  tone.  "He  ain't  worth  a  tear  from  your 
pretty  eye.  He  ain't  fit  to  wipe  your  feet  on — your 
pretty  wee  feet!" 

But  Rosa  turned  angrily  and  stamped  her  foot. 

"Go  away!  You  bad  old  man!"  she  shrieked. 
"Go  away!  I  shall  tell  my  father!"  And  she 
flouted  herself  into  the  school-house. 

Jasper  stood  looking  ruefully  after  her,  shaking 
his  head.  "The  little  de'il!"  he  said  aloud;  "the 
poor,  pretty  little  de'il.  She'll  get  her  dues  aplenty 
afore  she's  done."  And  Jasper  went  back  to  the 
play. 

250 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

Meantime,  inside  the  school-house,  the  play  went 
gloriously  on  to  the  finish,  and  Gardley  as  Nick 
Bottom  took  the  house  by  storm.  Poor  absent  Jed's 
father,  sent  by  the  sufferer  to  report  it  all,  etood  at 
the  back  of  the  house  while  tears  of  pride  and  dis- 
appointment rolled  down  his  cheeks — pride  that 
Jed  had  been  so  well  represented,  disappointment 
that  it  couldn't  have  been  his  son  up  there  play- 
acting like  that. 

The  hour  was  late  when  the  play  was  over,  and 
Margaret  stood  at  last  in  front  of  the  stage  to  receive 
the  congratulations  of  the  entire  countryside,  while 
the  young  actors  posed  and  laughed  and  chattered 
excitedly,  then  went  away  by  two  and  threes,  their 
tired,  happy  voices  sounding  back  along  the  road. 
The  people  from  the  fort  had  been  the  first  to  surge 
around  Margaret  with  then*  eager  congratulations 
and  gushing  sentiments:  "So  sweet,  my  dear!  So 
perfectly  wonderful!  You  really  have  got  some 
dandy  actors!"  And,  "Why  don't  you  try  some- 
thing lighter — something  simpler,  don't  you  know. 
Something  really  popular  that  these  poor  people 
could  understand  and  appreciate?  A  little  farce! 
I  could  help  you  pick  one  out!" 

And  all  the  while  they  gushed  Jasper  Kemp  and 
his  men,  grim  and  forbidding,  stood  like  a  cordon 
drawn  about  her  to  protect  her,  with  Gardley  hi  the 
center,  just  behind  her,  as  though  he  had  a  right 
there  and  meant  to  stay;  till  at  last  the  fort  people 
hurried  away  and  the  school-house  grew  suddenly 
empty  with  just  those  two  and  the  eight  men  be- 
hind; and  by  the  door  Bud,  talking  to  Pop  and 
Mom  Wallis  in  the  buckboard  outside. 

251 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Amid  this  admiring  body-guard  at  last  Gardley 
took  Margaret  home.  Perhaps  she  wondered  a  little 
that  they  all  went  along,  but  she  laid  it  to  their 
pride  in  the  play  and  then*  desire  to  talk  it  over. 

They  had  sent  Mom  and  Pop  Wallis  home  horse- 
back, after  all,  and  put  Margaret  and  Gardley  in  the 
buckboard,  Margaret  never  dreaming  that  it  was 
because  Gardley  was  not  fit  to  walk.  Indeed,  he  did 
not  realize  himself  why  they  all  stuck  so  closely  to 
him.  He  had  lived  through  so  much  since  Jasper 
and  his  men  had  burst  into  his  prison  and  freed 
him,  bringing  him  in  hot  haste  to  the  school-house, 
with  Bud  wildly  riding  ahead.  But  it  was  enough 
for  him  to  sit  beside  Margaret  in  the  sweet  night 
and  remember  how  she  had  come  out  to  him  under 
the  stars.  Her  hand  lay  beside  him  on  the  seat,  and 
without  intending  it  his  own  brushed  it.  Then  he 
laid  his  gently,  reverently,  down  upon  hers  with  a 
quiet  pressure,  and  her  smaller  fingers  thrilled  and 
nestled  in  his  grasp. 

In  the  shadow  of  a  big  tree  beside  the  house  he 
bade  her  good-by,  the  men  busying  themselves  with 
turning  about  the  buckboard  noisily,  and  Bud 
discreetly  taking  himself  to  the  back  door  to  get 
one  of  the  men  a  drink  of  water. 

"  You  have  been  suffering  in  some  way,"  said  Mar- 
garet, with  sudden  intuition,  as  she  looked  up  into 
Gardley's  face.  "You  have  been  in  peril,  some- 
how—" 

"A  little,"  he  answered,  lightly.  "I'll  tell  you 
about  it  to-morrow.  I  mustn't  keep  the  men  wait- 
ing now.  I  shall  have  a  great  deal  to  tell  you  to- 
ipQrvaw — if  you  wfll  let  me.  Good  night,  Margaret!3' 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Their  hands  lingered  in  a  clasp,  and  then  he  rode 
away  with  his  body-guard. 

But  Margaret  did  not  have  to  wait  until  the 
morrow  to  hear  the  story,  for  Bud  was  just  fairly 
bursting. 

Mrs.  Tanner  had  prepared  a  nice  little  supper — 
more  cold  chicken,  pie,  doughnuts,  coffee,  some  of 
her  famous  marble  cake,  and  preserves — and  she 
insisted  on  Margaret's  coming  into  the  dining-room 
and  eating  it,  though  the  girl  would  much  rather 
have  gone  with  her  happy  heart  up  to  her  own 
room  by  herself. 

Bud  did  not  wait  on  ceremony.  He  began  at  once 
when  Margaret  was  seated,  even  before  his  mother 
could  get  her  properly  waited  on. 

"Well,  we  had  some  ride,  we  sure  did!  The 
Kid's  a  great  old  scout." 

Margaret  perceived  that  this  was  a  leader.  "Why, 
that's  so,  what  became  of  you,  William?  I  hunted 
everywhere  for  you.  Things  were  pretty  strenuous 
there  for  a  while,  and  I  needed  you  dreadfully." 

"Well,  I  know,"  Bud  apologized.  "I'd  oughta 
let  you  know  before  I  went,  but  there  wasn't  time. 
You  see,  I  had  to  pinch  that  guy's  horse  to  go,  and 
I  knew  it  was  just  a  chance  if  we  could  get  back, 
anyway;  but  I  had  to  take  it.  You  see,  if  I  could  'a' 
gone  right  to  the  cabin  it  would  have  been  a  dead 
cinch,  but  I  had  to  ride  to  camp  for  the  men,  and 
then,  taking  the  short  trail  across,  it  was  some  ride 
to  Ouida's  Cabin!" 

Mrs.  Tanner  stopped  aghast  as  she  was  cutting 
a  piece  of  dried-apple  pie  for  Margaret.  "Now, 
Buddie — mother's  boy — you  don't  mean  to  tell  me 

17  253 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

you  went  to  Ouida's  Cabin?  Why,  sonnie,  that's  an 
awful  place!  Don't  you  know  your  pa  told  you  he'd 
whip  you  if  you  ever  went  on  that  trail?" 

"I  should  worry,  Ma!  I  had  to  go.  They  had 
Mr.  Gardley  tied  up  there,  and  we  had  to  go  and 
get  him  rescued." 

"You  had  to  go,  Buddie — now  what  could  you 
do  in  that  awful  place?"  Mrs.  Tanner  was  almost 
reduced  to  tears.  She  saw  her  offspring  at  the  edge 
of  perdition  at  once. 

But  Bud  ignored  his  mother  and  went  on  with  his 
tale.  ' l  You  j  est  oughta  seen  Jap  Kemp's  face  when  I 
told  him  what  that  guy  said  to  you!  Some  face, 
b'lieve  me!  He  saw  right  through  the  whole  thing, 
too.  I  could  see  that!  He  ner  the  men  hadn't 
had  a  bite  o'  supper  yet;  they'd  just  got  back  from 
somewheres.  They  thought  the  Kid  was  over  here 
all  day  helping  you.  He  said  yesterday  when  he 
left  'em  here's  where  he's  a-comin'" — Bud's  mouth 
was  so  full  he  could  hardly  articulate — "an'  when  I 
told  'em,  he  jest  blew  his  little  whistle — like  what 
they  all  carry — three  times,  and  those  men  every 
one  jest  stopped  right  where  they  was,  whatever  they 
was  doin'.  Long  Bill  had  the  comb  in  the  air  getthV 
ready  to  comb  his  hair,  an'  he  left  it  there  and  come 
away,  and  Big  Jim  never  stopped  to  wipe  his  face 
on  the  roller- towel,  he  just  let  the  wind  dry  it;  and 
they  all  hustled  on  their  horses  fast  as  ever  they 
could  and  beat  it  after  Jap  Kemp.  Jap,  he  rode 
alongside  o'  me  and  asked  me  questions.  He  made 
me  tell  all  what  the  guy  from  the  fort  said  over 
again,  three  or  four  times,  and  then  he  ast  what 
time  he  got  to  the  school-house,  and  whether  the 

254 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

Kid  had  been  there  at  all  yest'iday  ur  t'day;  and  a 
lot  of  other  questions,  and  then  he  rode  alongside 
each  man  and  told  him  in  just  a  few  words  where 
we  was  goin'  and  what  the  guy  from  the  fort  had 
said.  Gee!  but  you'd  oughta  heard  what  the  men 
said  when  he  told  'em !  Gee !  but  they  was  some  mad ! 
Bimeby  we  came  to  the  woods  round  the  cabin,  and 
Jap  Kemp  made  me  stick  alongside  Long  Bill,  and  he 
sent  the  men  off  in  different  directions  all  in  a  big 
circle,  and  waited  till  each  man  was  in  his  place, 
and  then  we  all  rode  hard  as  we  could  and  came 
softly  up  round  that  cabin  just  as  the  sun  was  goin' 
down.  Gee!  but  you'd  oughta  seen  the  scairt  look 
on  them  women's  faces;  there  was  two  of  'em — an 
old  un  an'  a  skinny-looking  long-drink-o'-pump- 
water.  I  guess  she  was  a  girl.  I  don't  know.  Her 
eyes  looked  real  old.  There  was  only  three  men  in 
the  cabin;  the  rest  was  off  somewheres.  They  wasn't 
looking  for  anybody  to  come  that  time  o'  day,  I 
guess.  One  of  the  men  was  sick  on  a  bunk  in  the 
corner.  He  had  his  head  tied  up,  and  his  arm,  like 
he'd  been  shot,  and  the  other  two  men  came  jump- 
ing up  to  the  door  with  their  guns,  but  when  they 
saw  how  many  men  we  had  they  looked  awful 
scairt.  We  all  had  our  guns  out,  too! — Jap  Kemp 
gave  me  one  to  carry — "  Bud  tried  not  to  swagger 
as  he  told  this,  but  it  was  almost  too  much  for  him. 
"Two  of  our  men  held  the  horses,  and  all  the  rest 
of  us  got  down  and  went  into  the  cabin.  Jap  Kemp, 
sounded  his  whistle  and  all  our  men  done  the  same 
just  as  they  went  in  the  door — some  kind  of  signals 
they  have  for  the  Lone  Fox  Camp!  The  two  men 
in  the  doorway  aimed  straight  at  Jap  Kemp  and 

255 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

fired,  but  Jap  was  onto  'em  and  jumped  one  side, 
and  our  men  fired,  too,  and  we  soon  had  'em  tied 
up  and  went  in — that  is,  Jap  and  me  and  Long  Bill 
went  in,  the  rest  stayed  by  the  door — and  it  wasn't 
long  'fore  their  other  men  came  riding  back  hot 
haste;  they'd  heard  the  shots,  you  know  —  and 
some  more  of  our  men — why,  most  twenty  or  thirty 
there  was,  I  guess,  altogether;  some  from  Lone  Fox 
Camp  that  was  watching  off  in  the  woods  came, 
and  when  we  got  outside  again  there  they  all  were, 
like  a  big  army.  Most  of  the  men  belonging  to  the 
cabin  was  tied  and  harmless  by  that  tune,  for  our 
men  took  'em  one  at  a  time  as  they  came  riding  in. 
Two  of  'em  got  away,  but  Jap  Kemp  said  they 
couldn't  go  far  without  being  caught,  'cause  there 
was  a  watch  out  for  'em — they'd  been  stealing  cattle 
long  back  something  terrible.  Well,  so  Jap  Kemp 
and  Long  Bill  and  I  went  into  the  cabin  after  the 
two  men  that  shot  was  tied  with  ropes  we'd  brung 
along,  and  handcuffs,  and  we  went  hunting  for  the 
Kid.  At  first  we  couldn't  find  him  at  all.  Gee!  It 
was  something  fierce!  And  the  old  woman  kep' 
a-crying  and  saying  we'd  kill  her  sick  son,  and  she 
didn't  know  nothing  about  the  man  we  was  hunting 
for.  But  pretty  soon  I  spied  the  Kid's  foot  stickin' 
out  from  under  the  cot  where  the  sick  man  was,  and 
when  I  told  Jap  Kemp  that  sick  man  pulled  out  a 
gun  he  had  under  the  blanket  and  aimed  it  right 
at  me!" 

"Oh,  mother's  little  Buddie!"  whimpered  Mrs. 
Tanner,  with  her  apron  to  her  eyes. 

"Aw,  Ma,  cut  it  out!  he  didn't  hurt  me!  The  gun 
just  went  off  crooked,  and  grazed  Jap  Kemp's  hand 

256 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

a  little,  not  much.  Jap  knocked  it  out  of  the  sick 
man's  hand  just  as  he  was  pullin'  the  trigger.  Say,. 
Ma,  ain't  you  got  any  more  of  those  cucumber 
pickles?  It  makes  a  man  mighty  hungry  to  do  all 
that  riding  and  shooting.  Well,  it  certainly  was 
something  fierce —  Say,  Miss  Earle,  you  take  that 
last  piece  o'  pie.  Oh,  g'wan!  Take  it!  You  worked 
hard.  No,  I  don't  want  it,  really!  Well,  if  you 
won't  take  it  anyway,  I  might  eat  it  just  to  save 
it.  Got  any  more  coffee,  Ma?" 

But  Margaret  was  not  eating.  Her  face  was  pale 
and  her  eyes  were  starry  with  unshed  tears,  and  she 
waited  in  patient  but  breathless  suspense  for  the 
vagaries  of  the  story  to  work  out  to  the  finish. 

"Yes,  it  certainly  was  something  fierce,  that 
cabin,"  went  on  the  narrator.  "Why,  Ma,  it  looked 
as  if  it  had  never  been  swept  under  that  cot  when 
we  hauled  the  Kid  out.  He  was  tied  all  up  in  knots, 
and  great  heavy  ropes  wound  tight  from  his  shoulders 
down  to  his  ankles.  Why,  they  were  bound  so 
tight  they  made  great  heavy  welts  in  his  wrists  and 
shoulders  and  round  his  ankles  when  we  took  'em 
off;  and  they  had  a  great  big  rag  stuffed  into  his 
mouth  so  he  couldn't  yell.  Gee!  It  was  something 
fierce!  He  was  'most  dippy,  too;  but  Jap  Kemp 
brought  him  round  pretty  quick  and  got  him  out- 
side in  the  air.  That  was  the  worst  place  I  ever 
was  in  myself.  You  couldn't  breathe,  and  the  dirt 
was  something  fierce.  It  was  like  a  pigpen.  I 
sure  was  glad  to  get  outdoors  again.  And  then — 
well,  the  Kid  came  around  all  right  and  they  got 
him  on  a  horse  and  gave  him  something  out  of  a 
bottle  Jap  Kemp  had,  and  pretty  soon  he  could  ride. 

2*7 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

again.  Why,  you'd  oughta  seen  his  nerve.  He 
just  sat  up  there  as  straight,  his  lips  all  white  yet 
and  his  eyes  looked  some  queer;  but  he  straightened 
up  and  he  looked  those  rascals  right  in  the  eye,  and 
told  'em  a  few  things,  and  he  gave  orders  to  the  other 
men  from  Lone  Fox  Camp  what  to  do  with  'em; 
and  he  had  the  two  women  disarmed — they  had 
guns,  too — and  carried  away,  and  the  cabin  nailed 
up,  and  a  notice  put  on  the  door,  and  every  one  of 
those  men  were  handcuffed — the  sick  one  and  all — 
and  he  told  'em  to  bring  a  wagon  and  put  the  sick 
one's  cot  in  and  take  'em  over  to  Ashland  to  the  jail, 
and  he  sent  word  to  Mr.  Rogers.  Then  we  rode 
home  and  got  to  the  school-house  just  when  you  was 
playing  the  last  chords  of  the  ov'rtcher.  Gee!  It 
was  some  fierce  ride  and  some  close  shave!  The 
Kid  he  hadn't  had  a  thing  to  eat  since  Monday  noon, 
and  he  was  some  hungry!  I  found  a  sandwich  on 
the  window  of  the  dressing-room,  and  he  ate  it  while 
he  got  togged  up — 'course  I  told  him  'bout  Jed  soon's 
we  left  the  cabin,  and  Jap  Kemp  said  he'd  oughta  go 
right  home  to  camp  after  all  he  had  been  through; 
but  he  wouldn't;  he  said  he  was  goin'  to  act.  So 
'course  he  had  his  way!  But,  gee!  You  could  see 
it  wasn't  any  cinch  game  for  him!  He  'most  fell 
over  every  time  after  the  curtain  fell.  You  see, 
they  gave  him  some  kind  of  drugged  whisky  up 
there  at  the  cabin  that  made  his  head  feel  queer. 
Say,  he  thinks  that  guy  from  the  fort  came  in  and 
looked  at  him  once  while  he  was  asleep.  He  says 
it  was  only  a  dream,  but  I  bet  he  did.  Say,  Ma, 
ain't  you  gonta  give  me  another  doughnut?" 
In  the  quiet  of  her  chamber  at  last,  Margaret 

258 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

knelt  before  her  window  toward  the  purple,  shadowy 
mountain  under  the  starry  dome,  and  gave  thanks 
for  the  deliverance  of  Gardley;  while  Bud,  in  his 
comfortable  loft,  lay  down  to  his  well-earned  rest 
and  dreamed  of  pirates  and  angels  and  a  hero  who 
looked  like  the  Kid* 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  Sunday  before  Lance  Gardley  started  East 
on  his  journey  of  reparation  two  strangers 
slipped  quietly  into  the  back  of  the  school-house 
during  the  singing  of  the  first  hymn  and  sat  down 
in  the  shadow  by  the  door. 

Margaret  was  playing  the  piano  when  they  came 
in,  and  did  not  see  them,  and  when  she  turned  back 
to  her  Scripture  lesson  she  had  time  for  but  the 
briefest  of  glances.  She  supposed  they  must  be  some 
visitors  from  the  fort,  as  they  were  speaking  to 
the  captain7  s  wife — who  came  over  occasionally  to 
the  Sunday  service,  perhaps  because  it  afforded  an 
opportunity  for  a  ride  with  one  of  the  young  officers. 
These  occasional  visitors  who  came  for  amusement 
and  curiosity  had  ceased  to  trouble  Margaret.  Her 
real  work  was  with  the  men  and  women  and  children 
who  loved  the  services  for  then*  own  sake,  and  she 
tried  as  much  as  possible  to  forget  outsiders.  So, 
that  day  everything  went  on  just  as  usual,  Mar- 
garet putting  her  heart  into  the  prayer,  the  simple, 
storylike  reading  of  the  Scripture,  and  the  other 
story-sermon  which  followed  it.  Gardley  sang  un- 
usually well  at  the  close,  a  wonderful  bit  from  an 
oratorio  that  he  and  Margaret  had  been  practising. 

But  when  toward  the  close  of  the  little  vesper 

260 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

service  Margaret  gave  opportunity,  as  she  often 
did,  for  others  to  take  part  in  sentence  prayers,  one 
of  the  strangers  from  the  back  of  the  room  stood  up 
and  began  to  pray.  And  such  a  prayer!  Heaven 
seemed  to  bend  low,  and  earth  to  kneel  and  beseech 
as  the  stranger-man,  with  a  face  like  an  archangel, 
and  a  body  of  an  athlete  clothed  in  a  brown-flannel 
shirt  and  khakis,  besought  the  Lord  of  heaven  for 
a  blessing  on  this  gathering  and  on  the  leader  of 
this  little  company  who  had  so  wonderfully  led  them 
to  see  the  Christ  and  then*  need  of  salvation  through 
the  lesson  of  the  day.  And  it  did  not  need  Bud's 
low-breathed  whisper,  "The  missionary!"  to  tell 
Margaret  who  he  was.  His  face  told  her.  His 
prayer  thrilled  her,  and  his  strong,  young,  true  voice 
made  her  sure  that  here  was  a  man  of  God  in  truth. 

When  the  prayer  was  over  and  Margaret  stood 
once  more  shyly  facing  her  audience,  she  could 
scarcely  keep  the  tremble  out  of  her  voice : 

"Oh,"  said  she,  casting  aside  ceremony,  "if  I  had 
known  the  missionary  was  here  I  should  not  have 
dared  to  try  and  lead  this  meeting  to-day.  Won't 
you  please  come  up  here  and  talk  to  us  for  a  little 
while  now,  Mr.  Brownleigh?" 

At  once  he  came  forward  eagerly,  as  if  each  op- 
portunity were  a  pleasure.  "Why,  surely,  I  want  to 
speak  a  word  to  you,  just  to  say  how  glad  I  am  to 
see  you  all,  and  to  experience  what  a  wonderful 
teacher  you  have  found  since  I  went  away;  but  I 
wouldn't  have  missed  this  meeting  to-day  for  all 
the  sermons  I  ever  wrote  or  preached.  You  don't 
need  any  more  sermon  than  the  remarkable  story 
you've  just  been  listening  to,  and  I've  only  one  word 

261 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

to  add;  and  that  is,  that  I've  found  since  I  went 
away  that  Jesus  Christ,  the  only-begotten  Son  o£ 
God,  is  just  the  same  Jesus  to  me  to-day  that  He 
was  the  last  tune  I  spoke  to  you.  He  is  just  as  ready 
to  forgive  your  sin,  to  comfort  you  in  sorrow,  to 
help  you  in  temptation,  to  raise  your  body  in  the 
resurrection,  and  to  take  you  home  to  a  mansion 
in  His  Father's  house  as  He  was  the  day  He  hung 
upon  the  cross  to  save  your  soul  from  death.  Fve 
found  I  can  rest  just  as  securely  upon  the  Bible  as 
the  word  of  God  as  when  I  first  tested  its  promises. 
Heaven  and  earth  may  pass  away,  but  His  word 
shall  never  pass  away." 

"Go  to  it!"  said  Jasper  Kemp  under  his  breath  in 
the  tone  some  men  say  "  Amen!"  and  his  brows  were 
drawn  as  if  he  were  watching  a  battle.  Margaret 
couldn't  help  wondering  if  he  were  thinking  of  the 
Rev.  Frederick  West  just  then. 

When  the  service  was  over  the  missionary  brought 
his  wife  forward  to  Margaret,  and  they  loved  each 
other  at  once.  Just  another  sweet  girl  like  Mar- 
garet. She  was  lovely,  with  a  delicacy  of  feature 
that  betokened  the  high-born  and  high-bred,  but 
dressed  in  a  dainty  khaki  riding  costume,  if  that 
uncompromising  fabric  could  ever  be  called  dainty. 
Margaret,  remembering  it  afterward,  wondered  what 
it  had  been  that  gave  it  that  unique  individuality, 
and  decided  it  was  perhaps  a  combination  of  cut 
and  finish  and  little  dainty  accessories.  A  bit  of 
creamy  lace  at  the  throat  of  the  rolling  collar,  a 
touch  of  golden-brown  velvet  in  a  golden  clasp,  the 
flash  of  a  wonderful  jewel  on  her  finger,  the  modeling 
of  the  small,  brown  cap  with  its  two  eagle  quills — 

262 


VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

all  set  the  little  woman  apart  and  made  her  fit  to 
enter  any  well-dressed  company  of  riders  in  some 
great  city  park  or  fashionable  drive.  Yet  here  in 
the  wilderness  she  was  not  overdressed. 

The  eight  men  from  the  camp  stood  in  solemn 
row,  waiting  to  be  recognized,  and  behind  them, 
abashed  and  grinning  with  embarrassment,  stood 
Pop  and  Mom  Wallis,  Mom  with  her  new  gray 
bonnet  glorifying  her  old  face  till  the  missionary's 
wife  had  to  look  twice  to  be  sure  who  she  was. 

"And  now,  surely,  Hazel,  we  must  have  these  dear 
people  come  over  and  help  us  with  the  singing  some- 
times. Can't  we  try  something  right  now?"  said 
the  missionary,  looking  first  at  his  wife  and  then 
at  Margaret  and  Gardley.  "This  man  is  a  new- 
comer since  I  went  away,  but  I'm  mighty  sure  he  is 
the  right  kind,  and  I'm  glad  to  welcome  him — or 
perhaps  I  would  better  ask  if  he  will  welcome  me?" 
And  with  his  rare  smile  the  missionary  put  out  his 
hand  to  Gardley,  who  took  it  with  an  eager  grasp. 
The  two  men  stood  looking  at  each  other  for  a 
moment,  as  rare  men,  rarely  met,  sometimes  do  even 
on  a  sinful  earth;  and  after  that  clasp  and  that 
look  they  turned  away,  brothers  for  life. 

That  was  a  most  interesting  song  rehearsal  that 
followed.  It  would  be  rare  to  find  four  voices  like 
those  even  in  a  cultivated  musical  center,  and  they 
blended  as  if  they  had  been  made  for  one  another. 
The  men  from  the  bunk-house  and  a  lot  of  other 
people  silently  dropped  again  into  their  seats  to 
listen  as  the  four  sang  on.  The  missionary  took  the 
bass,  and  his  wife  the  alto,  and  the  four  made  music 
worth  listening  to.  The  rare  and  lovely  thing  about 

263 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

it  was  that  they  sang  to  souls,  not  alone  for  ears, 
and  so  their  music,  classical  though  it  was  and  of 
the  highest  order,  appealed  keenly  to  the  hearts  of 
these  rough  men,  and  made  them  feel  that  heaven 
had  opened  for  them,  as  once  before  for  untaught 
shepherds,  and  let  down  a  ladder  of  angelic  voices. 

"I  shall  feel  better  about  leaving  you  out  here 
while  I  am  gone,  since  they  have  come,'7  said  Gardley 
that  night  when  he  was  bidding  Margaret  good  night. 
"I  couldn't  bear  to  think  there  were  none  of  your 
own  kind  about  you.  The  others  are  devoted  and 
would  do  for  you  with  their  lives  if  need  be,  as  far 
as  they  know;  but  I  like  you  to  have  real  friends — 
real  Christian  friends.  This  man  is  what  I  call  a 
Christian.  I'm  not  sure  but  he  is  the  first  minister 
that  I  have  ever  come  close  to  who  has  impressed 
me  as  believing  what  he  preaches,  and  living  it. 
I  suppose  there  are  others.  I  haven't  known  many. 
That  man  West  that  was  here  when  you  came  was 
a  mistake!" 

"He  didn't  even  preach  much,"  smiled  Margaret, 
"so  how  could  he  live  it?  This  man  is  real.  And 
there  are  others.  Oh,  I  have  known  a  lot  of  them 
that  are  living  lives  of  sacrifice  and  loving  service 
and  are  yet  just  as  strong  and  happy  and  delightful 
as  if  they  were  millionaires.  But  they  are  the  men 
who  have  not  thrown  away  their  Bibles  and  their 
Christ.  They  believe  every  promise  in  God's  word, 
and  rest  on  them  day  by  day,  testing  them  and 
proving  them  over  and  over.  I  wish  you  knew 
my  father!" 

"I  am  going  to,"  said  Gardley,  proudly.  "I  am 
going  to  him  just  as  soon  as  I  have  finished  my 

264 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

business  and  straightened  out  my  affairs;  and  I 
am  going  to  tell  him  everything — with  your  per- 
mission, Margaret!" 

"Oh,  how  beautiful!"  cried  Margaret,  with  happy 
tears  in  her  eyes.  "To  think  you  are  going  to  see 
father  and  mother.  I  have  wanted  them  to  know 
the  real  you.  I  couldn't  half  tell  you,  the  real  you, 
in  a  letter!" 

"Perhaps  they  won't  look  on  me  with  your  sweet 
blindness,  dear,"  he  said,  smiling  tenderly  down  on 
her.  "Perhaps  they  will  see  only  my  dark,  past 
life — for  I  mean  to  tell  your  father  everything. 
I'm  not  going  to  have  any  skeletons  in  the  closet 
to  cause  pain  hereafter.  Perhaps  your  father  and 
mother  will  not  feel  like  giving  their  daughter  to 
me  after  they  know.  Remember,  I  realize  just  what 
a  rare  prize  she  is." 

"No,  father  is  not  like  that,  Lance,"  said  Mar- 
garet, with  her  rare  smile  lighting  up  her  happy 
eyes.  "Father  and  mother  will  understand." 

"But  if  they  should  not?"  There  was  the  shadow 
of  sadness  in  Gardley's  eyes  as  he  asked  the  question. 

"I  belong  to  you,  dear,  anyway,"  she  said,  with 
sweet  surrender.  "I  trust  you  though  the  whole 
world  were  against  you!" 

For  answer  Gardley  took  her  in  his  arms,  a  look 
of  awe  upon  his  face,  and,  stooping,  laid  his  lips  upon 
hers  in  tender  reverence. 

"Margaret — you  wonderful  Margaret!"  he  said. 
"God  has  blessed  me  more  than  other  men  in  sending 
you  to  me!  With  His  help  I  will  be  worthy  of  you!" 

Three  days  more  and  Margaret  was  alone  with 
her  school  work,  her  two  missionary  friends  thirty 

265 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

miles  away,  her  eager  watching  for  the  mail  to  come, 
her  faithful  attendant  Bud,  and  for  comfort  the 
purple  mountain  with  its  changing  glory  in  the 
distance. 

A  few  days  before  Gardley  left  for  the  East  he 
had  been  offered  a  position  by  Rogers  as  general 
manager  of  his  estate  at  a  fine  salary,  and  after  con- 
sultation with  Margaret  he  decided  to  accept  it, 
but  the  question  of  their  marriage  they  had  left  by 
common  consent  unsettled  until  Gardley  should 
return  and  be  able  to  offer  his  future  wife  a  record 
made  as  fair  and  clean  as  human  effort  could  make 
it  after  human  mistakes  had  unmade  it.  As  Mar- 
garet worked  and  waited,  wrote  her  charming  letters 
to  father  and  mother  and  lover,  and  thought  her 
happy  thoughts  with  only  the  mountain  for  con- 
fidant, she  did  not  plan  for  the  future  except  in  a 
dim  and  dreamy  way.  She  would  make  those  plans 
with  Gardley  when  he  returned.  Probably  they 
must  wait  some  time  before  they  could  be  married. 
Gardley  would  have  to  earn  some  money,  and  she 
must  earn,  too.  She  must  keep  the  Ashland  School 
for  another  year.  It  had  been  rather  understood, 
when  she  came  out,  that  if  at  all  possible  she  would 
remain  two  years  at  least.  It  was  hard  to  think 
of  not  going  home  for  the  summer  vacation;  but 
the  trip  cost  a  great  deal  and  was  not  to  be  thought 
of.  There  was  already  a  plan  suggested  to  have  a 
summer  session  of  the  school,  and  if  that  went 
through,  of  course  she  must  stay  right  in  Ashland. 
It  was  hard  to  think  of  not  seeing  her  father  and 
mother  for  another  long  year,  but  perhaps  Gardley 
would  be  returning  before  the  summer  was  over, 

266 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

and  then  it  would  not  be  so  hard.  However,  she 
tried  to  put  these  thoughts  out  of  her  mind  and  do 
her  work  happily.  It  was  incredible  that  Arizona 
should  have  become  suddenly  so  blank  and  unin- 
teresting since  the  departure  of  a  man  whom  she 
had  not  known  a  few  short  months  before. 

Margaret  had  long  since  written  to  her  father 
and  mother  about  Gardley 's  first  finding  her  in  the 
desert.  The  thing  had  become  history  and  was  not 
likely  to  alarm  them.  She  had  been  in  Arizona  long 
enough  to  be  acquainted  with  things,  and  they  would 
not  be  always  thinking  of  her  as  sitting  on  stray 
water-tanks  in  the  desert;  so  she  told  them  about 
it,  for  she  wanted  them  to  know  Gardley  as  he  had 
been  to  her.  The  letters  that  had  traveled  back 
and  forth  between  New  York  and  Arizona  had 
been  full  of  Gardley;  and  still  Margaret  had  not 
told  her  parents  how  it  was  between  them.  Gard- 
ley had  asked  that  he  might  do  that.  Yet  it  had 
been  a  blind  father  and  mother  who  had  not  long 
ago  read  between  the  lines  of  those  letters  and  under- 
stood. Margaret  fancied  she  detected  a  certain 
sense  of  relief  in  her  mother's  letters  after  she  knew 
that  Gardley  had  gone  East.  Were  they  worrying 
about  him,  she  wondered,  or  was  it  just  the  natural 
dread  of  a  mother  to  lose  her  child? 

So  Margaret  settled  down  to  school  routine,  and 
more  and  more  made  a  confidant  of  Bud  concern- 
ing little  matters  of  the  school.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  Bud  at  that  tune  Margaret  would  have  been 
lonely  indeed. 

Two  or  three  times  since  Gardley  left,  the  Brownr 
leighs  had  ridden  over  to  Sunday  service,  and  once 

267 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

had  stopped  for  a  few  minutes  during  the  week  on 
their  way  to  visit  some  distant  need.  These  oc- 
casions were  a  delight  to  Margaret,  for  Hazel  Brown- 
leigh  was  a  kindred  spirit.  She  was  looking  for- 
ward with  pleasure  to  the  visit  she  was  to  make 
them  at  the  mission  station  as  soon  as  school  closed. 
She  had  been  there  once  with  Gardley  before  he 
left,  but  the  ride  was  too  long  to  go  often,  and  the 
only  escort  available  was  Bud.  Besides,  she  could 
not  get  away  from  school  and  the  Sunday  service 
at  present;  but  it  was  pleasant  to  have  something 
to  look  forward  to. 

Meantime  the  spring  Commencement  was  coming 
on  and  Margaret  had  her  hands  full.  She  had 
undertaken  to  inaugurate  a  real  Commencement 
with  class  day  and  as  much  form  and  ceremony  as 
she  could  introduce  in  order  to  create  a  good  school 
spirit;  but  such  things  are  not  done  with  the  turn 
of  a  hand,  and  the  young  teacher  sadly  missed 
Gardley  in  all  these  preparations. 

At  this  time  Rosa  Rogers  was  Margaret's  particu- 
lar thorn  in  the  flesh. 

Since  the  night  that  Forsythe  had  quit  the  play 
and  ridden  forth  into  the  darkness  Rosa  had  re- 
garded her  teacher  with  baleful  eyes.  Gardley,  too, 
she  hated,  and  was  only  waiting  with  smoldering 
wrath  until  her  wild,  ungoverned  soul  could  take  its 
revenge.  She  felt  that  but  for  those  two  Forsythe 
would  still  have  been  with  her. 

Margaret,  realizing  the  passionate,  untaught 
nature  of  the  motherless  girl  and  her  great  need  of 
a  friend  to  guide  her,  made  attempt  after  attempt 
to  reach  and  befriend  her;  but  every  attempt  was 

268 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

met  with  repulse  and  the  sharp  word  of  scorn. 
Rosa  had  been  too  long  the  petted  darling  of  a 
father  who  was  utterly  blind  to  her  faults  to  be 
other  than  spoiled.  Her  own  way  was  the  one  thing 
that  ruled  her.  By  her  will  she  had  ruled  every 
nurse  and  servant  about  the  place,  and  wheedled 
her  father  into  letting  her  do  anything  the  whim 
prompted.  Twice  her  father,  through  the  advice  of 
friends,  had  tried  the  experiment  of  sending  her 
away  to  school,  once  to  an  Eastern  finishing  school, 
and  once  to  a  convent  on  the  Pacific  coast,  only  to 
have  her  return  shortly  by  request  of  the  school, 
more  wilful  than  when  she  had  gone  away.  And 
now  she  ruled  supreme  in  her  father's  home,  dis- 
liked by  most  of  the  servants  save  those  whom  she 
chose  to  favor  because  they  could  be  made  to  serve 
her  purposes.  Her  father,  engrossed  hi  his  business 
and  away  much  of  the  time,  was  bound  up  in  her 
and  saw  few  of  her  faults.  It  is  true  that  when  a 
fault  of  hers  did  come  to  his  notice,  however,  he 
dealt  with  it  most  severely,  and  grieved  over  it  in 
secret,  for  the  girl  was  much  like  the  mother  whose 
loss  had  emptied  the  world  of  its  joy  for  him.  But 
Rosa  knew  well  how  to  manage  her  father  and 
wheedle  him,  and  also  how  to  hide  her  own  doings 
from  his  knowledge. 

Rosa's  eyes,  dimples,  pink  cheeks,  and  coquettish 
httle  mouth  were  not  idle  in  those  days.  She  knew 
how  to  have  every  pupil  at  her  feet  and  ready  to 
obey  her  slightest  wish.  She  wielded  her  power  to 
its  fullest  extent  as  the  summer  drew  near,  and 
day  after  day  saw  a  slow  torture  for  Margaret. 
Some  days  the  menacing  air  of  insurrection  fairly 

18  269 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

bristled  in  the  room,  and  Margaret  could  not  under- 
stand how  some  of  her  most  devoted  followers  seemed 
to  be  in  the  forefront  of  battle,  until  one  day  she 
looked  up  quickly  and  caught  the  lynx-eyed  glance 
of  Rosa  as  she  turned  from  smiling  at  the  boys  in 
the  back  seat.  Then  she  understood.  Rosa  had 
cast  her  spell  upon  the  boys,  and  they  were  acting 
under  it  and  not  of  their  own  clear  judgment.  It 
was  the  world-old  battle  of  sex,  of  woman  against 
woman  for  the  winning  of  the  man  to  do  her  will. 
Margaret,  using  all  the  charm  of  her  lovely  per- 
sonality to  uphold  standards  of  right,  truth,  purity, 
high  living,  and  earnest  thinking;  Rosa  striving 
with  her  impish  beauty  to  lure  them  into  any  mis- 
chief so  it  foiled  the  other 's  purposes.  And  one  day 
Margaret  faced  the  girl  alone,  looking  steadily  into 
her  eyes  with  sad,  searching  gaze,  and  almost  a 
yearning  to  try  to  lead  the  pretty  child  to  finer 
things. 

"Rosa,  why  do  you  always  act  as  if  I  were  your 
enemy?"  she  said,  sadly. 

"Because  you  are!"  said  Rosa,  with  a  toss  of  her 
,  independent  head. 

"Indeed  I'm  not,  dear  child,"  she  said,  putting 
out  her  hand  to  lay  it  on  the  girl's  shoulder  kindly. 
"I  want  to  be  your  friend." 

"I'm  not  a  child!"  snapped  Rosa,  jerking  her 
shoulder  angrily  away;  "and  you  can  never  be  my 
friend,  because  I  hate  you!" 

"Rosa,  look  here!"  said  Margaret,  following  the 
girl  toward  the  door,  the  color  rising  in  her  cheeks 
and  a  desire  growing  in  her  heart  to  conquer  this 
poor,  passionate  creature  and  win  her  for  better 

270 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

things.  "Rosa,  I  cannot  have  you  say  such  things. 
Tell  me  why  you  hate  me?  What  have  I  done  that 
you  should  feel  that  way?  I'm  sure  if  we  should 
talk  it  over  we  might  come  to  some  better  under- 
standing." 

Rosa  stood  defiant  in  the  doorway.  "We  could 
never  come  to  any  better  understanding,  Miss 
Earle,"  she  declared  in  a  cold,  hard  tone,  "because 
I  understand  you  now  and  I  hate  you.  You  tried 
your  best  to  get  my  friend  away  from  me,  but  you 
couldn't  do  it;  and  you  would  like  to  keep  me  from 
having  any  boy  friends  at  all,  but  you  can't  do  that, 
either.  You  think  you  are  very  popular,  but  you'll 
find  out  I  always  do  what  I  like,  and  you  needn't 
try  to  stop  me.  I  don't  have  to  come  to  school 
unless  I  choose,  and  as  long  as  I  don't  break  your 
rules  you  have  no  complaint  coming;  but  you 
needn't  think  you  can  pull  the  wool  over  my  eyes 
the  way  you  do  the  others  by  pretending  to  be 
friends.  I  won't  be  friends!  I  hate  you!"  And 
Rosa  turned  grandly  and  marched  out  of  the  school- 
house. 

Margaret  stood  gazing  sadly  after  her  and  won- 
dering if  her  failure  here  were  her  fault — if  there 
was  anything  else  she  ought  to  have  done — if  she 
had  let  her  personal  dislike  of  the  girl  influence  her 
conduct.  She  sat  for  some  time  at  her  desk,  her  chin 
in  her  hands,  her  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy  with  a  hope- 
less, discouraged  expression  in  them,  before  she  be- 
came aware  of  another  presence  hi  the  room.  Look- 
ing around  quickly,  she  saw  that  Bud  was  sitting 
motionless  at  his  desk,  his  forehead  wrinkled  in  a 
fierce  frown,  his  jaw  set  belligerently,  and  a  look  of 

271 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

such  unutterable  pity  and  devotion  in  his  eyes  that 
her  heart  warmed  to  him  at  once  and  a  smile  of 
comradeship  broke  over  her  face. 

"Oh,  William!  Were  you  here?  Did  you  hear 
all  that?  What  do  you  suppose  is  the  matter? 
Where  have  I  failed?" 

"You  'ain't  failed  anywhere!  You  should  worry 
'bout  her!  She's  a  nut!  If  she  was  a  boy  I'd 
punch  her  head  for  her!  But  seeing  she's  only  a  girl, 
you  should  worry!  She  always  was  the  limit!" 

Bud's  tone  was  forcible.  He  was  the  only  one  of 
all  the  boys  who  never  yielded  to  Rosa's  charms,  but 
sat  hi  glowering  silence  when  she  exercised  her  powers 
on  the  school  and  created  pandemonium  for  the 
teacher.  Bud's  attitude  was  comforting.  It  had  a 
touch  of  manliness  and  gentleness  about  it  quite 
unwonted  for  him.  It  suggested  beautiful  possi- 
bilities for  the  future  of  his  character,  and  Margaret 
smiled  tenderly. 

"Thank  you,  dear  boy!"  she  said,  gently.  "You 
certainly  are  a  comfort.  If  every  one  was  as  splen- 
did as  you  are  we  should  have  a  model  school.  But 
I  do  wish  I  could  help  Rosa.  I  can't  see  why  she 
should  hate  me  so!  I  must  have  made  some  big 
mistake  with  her  in  the  first  place  to  antagonize 
her." 

"Naw!"  said  Bud,  roughly.  "No  chance!  She's 
just  a  nut,  that's  all.  She's  got  a  case  on  that 
Forsythe  guy,  the  worst  kind,  and  she's  afraid  some- 
body '11  get  him  away  from  her,  the  poor  stew,  as 
if  anybody  would  get  a  case  on  a  tough  guy  like 
that!  Gee!  You  should  worry!  Come  on,  let's 
take  a  ride  over  t'  camp!" 

272 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

With  a  sigh  and  a  smile  Margaret  accepted  Bud's 
consolations  and  went  on  her  way,  trying  to  find 
some  manner  of  showing  Rosa  what  a  real  friend 
she  was  willing  to  be.  But  Rosa  continued  obdurate 
and  hateful,  regarding  her  teacher  with  haughty  in- 
difference except  when  she  was  called  upon  to  recite, 
which  she  did  sometimes  with  scornful  condescen- 
sion, sometimes  with  pert  perfection,  and  sometimes 
with  saucy  humor  which  convulsed  the  whole  room. 
Margaret's  patience  was  almost  ceasing  to  be  a 
virtue,  and  she  meditated  often  whether  she  ought 
not  to  request  that  the  girl  be  withdrawn  from  the 
school.  Yet  she  reflected  that  it  was  a  very  short 
tune  now  until  Commencement,  and  that  Rosa  had 
not  openly  defied  any  rules.  It  was  merely  a  per- 
sonal antagonism.  Then,  too,  if  Rosa  were  taken 
from  the  school  there  was  really  no  other  good 
influence  in  the  girl's  life  at  present.  Day  by 
day  Margaret  prayed  about  the  matter  and  hoped 
that  something  would  develop  to  make  plain  her 
way. 

After  much  thought  in  the  matter  she  decided  to 
go  on  with  her  plans,  letting  Rosa  have  her  place 
in  the  Commencement  program  and  her  part  in 
the  class-day  doings  as  if  nothing  were  the  matter. 
Certainly  there  was  nothing  laid  down  in  the  rules 
of  a  public  school  that  proscribed  a  scholar  who  did 
not  love  her  teacher.  Why  should  the  fact  that 
one  had  incurred  the  hate  of  a  pupil  unfit  that 
pupil  for  her  place  in  her  class  so  long  as  she  did  her 
duties?  And  Rosa  did  hers  promptly  and  deftly, 
with  a  certain  piquant  originality  that  Margaret 
could  not  help  but  admire. 

273 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Sometimes,  as  the  teacher  cast  a  furtive  look  at 
the  pretty  girl  working  away  at  her  desk,  she  won- 
dered what  was  going  on  behind  the  lovely  mask. 
But  the  look  in  Rosa's  eyes,  when  she  raised  them, 
was  both  deep  and  sly. 

Rosa's  hatred  was  indeed  deep  rooted.  Whatever 
heart  she  had  not  frivoled  away  in  wilfulness  had 
been  caught  and  won  by  Forsythe,  the  first  grown 
man  who  had  ever  dared  to  make  real  love  to  her. 
Her  jealousy  of  Margaret  was  the  most  intense  thing 
that  had  ever  come  into  her  life.  To  think  of  him 
looking  at  Margaret,  talking  to  Margaret,  smiling 
at  Margaret,  walking  or  riding  with  Margaret,  was 
enough  to  send  her  writhing  upon  her  bed  in  the 
darkness  of  a  wakeful  night.  She  would  clench  her 
pretty  hands  until  the  nails  dug  into  the  flesh  and 
brought  the  blood.  She  would  bite  the  pillow  or 
the  blankets  with  an  almost  fiendish  clenching  of 
her  teeth  upon  them  and  mutter,  as  she  did  so:  "I 
hate  her!  I  hate  her!  I  could  kill  her!" 

The  day  her  first  letter  came  from  Forsythe,  Rosa 
held  her  head  high  and  went  about  the  school  as  if 
she  were  a  princess  royal  and  Margaret  were  the 
dust  under  her  feet.  Triumph  sat  upon  her  like  a 
crown  and  looked  forth  regally  from  her  eyes.  She 
laid  her  hand  upon  her  heart  and  felt  the  crackle 
of  his  letter  inside  her  blouse.  She  dreamed  with 
her  eyes  upon  the  distant  mountain  and  thought  of 
the  tender  names  he  had  called  her:  " Little  wild 
Rose  of  his  heart,"  "No  rose  in  all  the  world  until 
you  came,"  and  a  lot  of  other  meaningful  sentences. 
A  real  love-letter  all  her  own!  No  sharing  him 
with  any  hateful  teachers!  He  had  implied  in  her 

274 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

letter  that  she  was  the  only  one  of  all  the  people 
in  that  region  to  whom  he  cared  to  write.  He  had 
said  he  was  coming  back  some  day  to  get  her.  Her 
young,  wild  heart  throbbed  exultantly,  and  her  eyes 
looked  forth  their  triumph  malignantly.  When  he 
did  come  she  would  take  care  that  he  stayed  dose 
by  her.  No  conceited  teacher  from  the  East  should 
lure  him  from  her  side.  She  would  prepare  her  guiles 
and  smile  her  sweetest.  She  would  wear  fine  gar- 
ments from  abroad,  and  show  him  she  could  far 
outshine  that  quiet,  common  Miss  Earle,  with  all 
her  airs.  Yet  to  this  end  she  studied  hard.  It  was 
no  part  of  her  plan  to  be  left  behind  at  graduating- 
time.  She  would  please  her  father  by  taking  a 
prominent  part  in  things  and  outdoing  all  the  others. 
Then  he  would  give  her  what  she  liked — jewels 
and  silk  dresses,  and  all  the  things  a  girl  should 
have  who  had  won  a  lover  like  hers. 

The  last  busy  days  before  Commencement  were 
especially  trying  for  Margaret.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
children  were  possessed  with  the  very  spirit  of  mis- 
chief, and  she  could  not  help  but  see  that  it  was 
Rosa  who,  sitting  demurely  in  her  desk,  was  the 
center  of  it  all.  Only  Bud's  steady,  frowning  coun- 
tenance of  all  that  rollicking,  roistering  crowd  kept 
loyalty  with  the  really  beloved  teacher.  For,  in- 
deed, they  loved  her,  every  one  but  Rosa,  and 
would  have  stood  by  her  to  a  man  and  girl  when  it 
really  came  to  the  pinch,  but  in  a  matter  like  a  little 
bit  of  fun  in  these  last  few  days  of  school,  and  when 
challenged  to  it  by  the  school  beauty  who  did  not 
usually  condescend  to  any  but  a  few  of  the  older 
boys,  where  was  the  harm?  They  were  so  flattered 

275 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

by  Rosa's  smiles  that  they  failed  to  see  Margaret's 
worn,  weary  wistfulness. 

Bud,  coming  into  the  school-house  late  one  after- 
noon in  search  of  her  after  the  other  scholars  had 
gone,  found  Margaret  with  her  head  down  upon 
the  desk  and  her  shoulders  shaken  with  soundless 
sobs.  He  stood  for  a  second  silent  in  the  doorway, 
gazing  helplessly  at  her  grief,  then  with  the  delicacy 
of  one  boy  for  another  he  slipped  back  outside  the 
door  and  stood  in  the  shadow,  grinding  his  teeth. 

" Gee!"  he  said,  under  his  breath.  " Oh,  gee!  I'd 
like  to  punch  her  fool  head.  I  don't  care  if  she  ?s  a 
girl!  She  needs  it.  Gee!  if  she  was  a  boy  wouldn't 
I  settle  her,  the  little  darned  mean  sneak!" 

His  remarks,  it  is  needless  to  say,  did  not  have 
reference  to  his  beloved  teacher. 

It  was  in  the  atmosphere  everywhere  that  some- 
thing was  bound  to  happen  if  this  strain  kept  up. 
Margaret  knew  it  and  felt  utterly  inadequate  to 
meet  it.  Rosa  knew  it  and  was  awaiting  her  oppor- 
tunity. Bud  knew  it  and  could  only  stand  and 
watch  where  the  blow  was  to  strike  first  and  be 
ready  to  ward  it  off.  In  these  days  he  wished  fer- 
vently for  Gardley's  return.  He  did  not  know  just 
what  Gardley  could  do  about  "that  little  fool,"  as 
he  called  Rosa,  but  it  would  be  a  relief  to  be  able  to 
tell  some  one  all  about  it.  If  he  only  dared  leave  he 
would  go  over  and  tell  Jasper  Kemp  about  it,  just 
to  share  his  burden  with  somebody.  But  as  it  was 
he  must  stick  to  the  job  for  the  present  and  bear 
his  great  responsibility,  and  so  the  days  hastened 
by  to  the  last  Sunday  before  Commencement,  which 
was  to  be  on  Monday. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

MARGARET  had  spent  Saturday  in  rehearsals, 
so  that  there  had  been  no  rest  for  her.  Sun- 
day morning  she  slept  late,  and  awoke  from  a 
troubled  dream,  unrested.  She  almost  meditated 
whether  she  would  not  ask  some  one  to  read  a  ser- 
mon at  the  afternoon  service  and  let  her  go  on 
sleeping.  Then  a  memory  of  the  lonely  old  woman 
at  the  camp,  and  the  men,  who  came  so  regularly 
to  the  service,  roused  her  to  effort  once  more,  and 
she  arose  and  tried  to  prepare  a  little  something  for 
them. 

She  came  into  the  school-house  at  the  hour,  look- 
ing fagged,  with  dark  circles  under  her  eyes;  and  the 
loving  eyes  of  Mom  Wallis  already  hi  her  front  seat 
watched  her  keenly. 

"It's  time  for  him  to  come  back,"  she  said,  in  her 
heart.  "She's  gettin'  peeked!  I  wisht  he'd  come!"' 

Margaret  had  hoped  that  Rosa  would  not  come. 
The  girl  was  not  always  there,  but  of  late  she  had 
been  quite  regular,  coming  in  late  with  her  father 
just  a  little  after  the  story  had  begun,  and  attracting 
attention  by  her  smiles  and  bows  and  giggling 
whispers,  which  sometimes  were  so  audible  as  to 
create  quite  a  diversion  from  the  speaker. 

But  Rosa  came  in  early  to-day  and  took  a  seat 

277 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

directly  in  front  of  Margaret,  in  about  the  middle  of 
the  house,  fixing  her  eyes  on  her  teacher  with  a 
kind  of  settled  intention  that  made  Margaret  shrink 
as  if  from  a  danger  she  was  not  able  to  meet.  There 
was  something  bright  and  hard  and  daring  in  Rosa's 
eyes  as  she  stared  unwinkingly,  as  if  she  had  come 
to  search  out  a  weak  spot  for  her  evil  purposes,  and 
Margaret  was  so  tired  she  wanted  to  lay  her  head 
down  on  her  desk  and  cry.  She  drew  some  com- 
fort from  the  reflection  that  if  she  should  do  so 
childish  a  thing  she  would  be  at  once  surrounded 
by  a  strong  battalion  of  friends  from  the  camp,  who 
would  shield  her  with  their  lives  if  necessary. 

It  was  silly,  of  course,  and  she  must  control  this 
choking  in  her  throat,  only  how  was  she  ever  going 
to  talk,  with  Rosa  looking  at  her  that  way?  It  was 
like  a  nightmare  pursuing  her.  She  turned  to  the 
piano  and  kept  them  all  singing  for  a  while,  so  that 
she  might  pray  in  her  heart  and  grow  calm;  and 
when,  after  her  brief,  earnest  prayer,  she  lifted  her 
eyes  to  the  audience,  she  saw  with  intense  relief 
that  the  Brownleighs  were  in  the  audience. 

She  started  a  hymn  that  they  all  knew,  and  when 
they  were  well  in  the  midst  of  the  first  verse  she 
slipped  from  the  piano-stool  and  walked  swiftly 
down  the  aisle  to  Brownleigh's  side. 

"Would  you  please  talk  to  them  a  little  while?" 
•he  pleaded,  wistfully.  "I  am  so  tired  I  feel  as  if 
I  just  couldn't,  to-day." 

Instantly  Brownleigh  followed  her  back  to  the 
desk  and  took  her  place,  pulling  out  his  little,  worn 
Bible  and  opening  it  with  familiar  fingers  to  a  be- 
loved passage: 

278 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

"  '  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest.'  " 

The  words  fell  on  Margaret 's  tired  heart  like  balm, 
and  she  rested  her  head  back  against  the  wall  and 
closed  her  eyes  to  listen.  Sitting  so  away  from  ( 
Rosa's  stare,  she  could  forget  for  a  while  the  absurd 
burdens  that  had  got  on  her  nerves,  and  could  rest 
down  hard  upon  her  Saviour.  Every  word  that  the 
man  of  God  spoke  seemed  meant  just  for  her,  and 
brought  strength,  courage,  and  new  trust  to  her 
heart.  She  forgot  the  little  crowd  of  other  listeners 
and  took  the  message  to  herself,  drinking  it  in 
eagerly  as  one  who  has  been  a  long  time  ministering 
accepts  a  much-needed  ministry.  When  she  moved 
to  the  piano  again  for  the  closing  hymn  she  felt  new 
strength  within  her  to  bear  the  trials  of  the  week 
that  were  before  her.  She  turned,  smiling  and  brave, 
to  speak  to  those  who  always  crowded  around  to 
shake  hands  and  have  a  word  before  leaving. 

Hazel,  putting  a  loving  arm  around  her  as  soon 
as  she  could  get  up  to  the  front,  began  to  speak 
soothingly:  " You  poor,  tired  child!"  she  said;  "you 
are  almost  worn  to  a  frazzle.  You  need  a  big  change, 
and  I'm  going  to  plan  it  for  you  just  as  soon  as  I 
possibly  can.  How  would  you  like  to  go  with  us 
on  our  trip  among  the  Indians?  Wouldn't  it  be 
great?  It  '11  be  several  days,  depending  on  how  far 
we  go,  but  John  wants  to  visit  the  Hopi  reservation, 
if  possible,  and  it  '11  be  so  interesting.  They  are  a 
most  strange  people.  We'll  have  a  delightful  trip, 
sleeping  out  under  the  stars,  you  know.  Don't  you 
just  love  it?  I  do.  I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  the 
world.  I  can't  be  sure,  for  a  few  days  yet,  when  we 

279 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

can  go,  for  John  has  to  make  a  journey  in  the  other 
direction  first,  and  he  isn't  sure  when  he  can  return; 
but  it  might  be  this  week.  How  soon  can  you  come 
to  us?  How  I  wish  we  could  take  you  right  home 
with  us  to-night.  You  need  to  get  away  and  rest. 
But  your  Commencement  is  to-morrow,  isn't  it? 
I'm  so  sorry  we  can't  be  here,  but  this  other  matter 
is  important,  and  John  has  to  go  early  in  the  morn- 
ing. Some  one  very  sick  who  wants  to  see  him  be- 
fore he  dies — an  old  Indian  who  didn't  know  a  tking 
about  Jesus  till  John  found  him  one  day.  I  suppose 
you  haven't  anybody  who  could  bring  you  over  to 
us  after  your  work  is  done  here  to-morrow  night  or 
Tuesday,  have  you?  Well,  we'll  see  if  we  can't  find 
some  one  to  send  for  you  soon.  There's  an  old  Ind- 
ian who  often  comes  this  way,  but  he's  away  buying 
cattle.  Maybe  John  can  think  of  a  way  we  could 
send  for  you  early  in  the  week.  Then  you  would  be 
ready  to  go  with  us  on  the  trip.  You  would  like  to 
go,  wouldn't  you?" 

"Oh,  so  much!"  said  Margaret,  with  a  sigh  of 
wistf ulness.  ' '  I  can' t  think  of  anything  pleasanter !" 

Margaret  turned  suddenly,  and  there,  just  behind 
her,  almost  touching  her,  stood  Rosa,  that  strange, 
baleful  gleam  in  her  eyes  like  a  serpent  who  was 
biding  her  time,  drawing  nearer  and  nearer,  knowing 
•she  had  her  victim  where  she  could  not  move  before 
she  struck. 

It  was  a  strange  fancy,  of  course,  and  one  that  was 
caused  by  sick  nerves,  but  Margaret  drew  back 
and  almost  cried  out,  as  if  for  some  one  to  protect  her. 
Then  her  strong  common  sense  came  to  the  rescue 
and  she  rallied  and  smiled  at  Rosa  a  faint  little  sorry 

280 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

smile.  It  was  hard  to  smile  at  the  bright,  baleful 
face  with  the  menace  in  the  eyes. 

Hazel  was  watching  her.  "You  poor  child! 
You're  quite  worn  out!  I'm  afraid  you're  going  to 
be  sick." 

"Oh  no,"  said  Margaret,  trying  to  speak  cheer- 
fully; "things  have  just  got  on  my  nerves,  that's 
all.  It's  been  a  particularly  trying  time.  I  shall 
be  all  right  when  to-morrow  night  is  over." 

"Well,  we're  going  to  send  for  you  very  soon,  so 
be  ready!"  and  Hazel  followed  her  husband,  waving 
her  hand  in  gay  parting. 

Rosa  was  still  standing  just  behind  her  when  Mar- 
garet turned  back  to  her  desk,  and  the  younger  girl 
gave  her  one  last  dagger  look,  a  glitter  in  her  eyes  so 
sinister  and  vindictive  that  Margaret  felt  a  shudder 
run  through  her  whole  body,  and  was  glad  that  just 
then  Rosa's  father  called  to  her  that  they  must  be 
starting  home.  Only  one  more  day  now  of  Rosa, 
and  she  would  be  done  with  her,  perhaps  forever. 
The  girl  was  through  the  school  course  and  was  grad- 
uating. It  was  not  likely  she  would  return  another 
year.  Her  opportunity  was  over  to  help  her.  She  had 
failed.  Why,  she  couldn't  tell,  but  she  had  strange- 
ly failed,  and  all  she  asked  now  was  not  to  have  to 
endure  the  hard,  cold,  young  presence  any  longer. 

"Sick  nerves,  Margaret!"  she  said  to  herself. 
"Go  home  and  go  to  bed.  You'll  be  all  right  to- 
morrow!" And  she  locked  the  school-house  door 
and  walked  quietly  home  with  the  faithful  Bud. 

The  past  month  had  been  a  trying  tune  also  for 
Rosa.  Young,  wild,  and  motherless,  passionate,  wil- 
ful and  impetuous,  she  was  finding  life  tremendously 

281 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

exciting  just  now.  With  no  one  to  restrain  her  or 
warn  her  she  was  playing  with  forces  that  she  did 
not  understand. 

She  had  subjugated  easily  all  the  boys  hi  school, 
keeping  them  exactly  where  she  wanted  them  for 
her  purpose,  and  using  methods  that  would  have 
done  credit  to  a  woman  of  the  world.  But  by  far 
the  greatest  force  in  her  life  was  her  infatuation  for 
Forsythe. 

The  letters  had  traveled  back  and  forth  many 
times  between  them  since  Forsythe  wrote  that  first 
love-letter.  He  found  a  whimsical  pleasure  in  her 
deep  devotion  and  naive  readiness  to  follow  as  far 
as  he  cared  to  lead  her.  He  realized  that,  young  as 
she  was,  she  was  no  innocent,  which  made  the  ac- 
quaintance all  the  more  interesting.  He,  meantime, 
idled  away  a  few  months  on  the  Pacific  coast,  mak- 
ing mild  love  to  a  rich  California  girl  and  consider- 
ing whether  or  not  he  was  ready  yet  to  settle 
down. 

In  the  mean  tune  his  correspondence  with  Rosa 
took  on  such  a  nature  that  his  volatile,  impulsive 
nature  was  stirred  with  a  desire  to  see  her  again.  It 
was  not  often  that  once  out  of  sight  he  looked  back 
to  a  victim,  but  Rosa  had  shown  a  daring  and  a 
spirit  in  her  letters  that  sent  a  challenge  to  his  sated 
senses.  Moreover,  the  California  heiress  was  going 
on  a  journey;  besides,  an  old  enemy  of  his  who  knew 
altogether  too  much  of  his  past  had  appeared  on  the 
scene;  and  as  Gardley  had  been  removed  from  the 
Ashland  vicinity  for  a  time,  Forsythe  felt  it  might 
be  safe  to  venture  back  again.  There  was  always 
that  pretty,  spirited  little  teacher  if  Rosa  failed  to 

282 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

charm.  But  why  should  Rosa  not  charm?  And 
why  should  he  not  yield?  Rosa's  father  was  a  good 
sort  and  had  all  kinds  of  property.  Rosa  was  her 
father's  only  heir.  On  the  whole,  Forsythe  decided 
that  the  best  move  he  could  make  next  would  be 
to  return  to  Arizona.  If  things  turned  out  well  he 
might  even  think  of  marrying  Rosa. 

This  was  somewhat  the  train  of  thought  that  led 
Forsythe  at  last  to  write  to  Rosa  that  he  was  com- 
ing, throwing  Rosa  into  a  panic  of  joy  and  alarm. 
For  Rosa's  father  had  been  most  explicit  about  her 
ever  going  out  with  Forsythe  again.  It  had  been 
the  most  relentless  command  he  had  ever  laid  upon 
her,  spoken  in  a  tone  she  hardly  ever  disobeyed. 
Moreover,  Rosa  was  fearfully  jealous  of  Margaret. 
If  Forsythe  should  come  and  begin  to  hang  around 
the  teacher  Rosa  felt  she  would  go  wild,  or  do  some- 
thing terrible,  perhaps  even  kill  somebody.  She 
shut  her  sharp  little  white  teeth  fiercely  down  into 
her  red  under  lip  and  vowed  with  flashing  eyes  that 
he  should  never  see  Margaret  again  if  power  of  hers 
could  prevent  it. 

The  letter  from  Forsythe  had  reached  her  on 
Saturday  evening,  and  she  had  come  to  the  Sunday 
service  with  the  distinct  idea  of  trying  to  plan  how 
she  might  get  rid  of  Margaret.  It  would  be  hard 
enough  to  evade  her  father's  vigilance  if  he  once 
found  out  the  young  man  had  returned;  but  to 
have  him  begin  to  go  and  see  Margaret  again  was  a 
thing  she  could  not  and  would  not  stand. 

The  idea  obsessed  her  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others, 
and  made  her  watch  her  teacher  as  if  by  her  very 
concentration  of  thought  upon  her  some  way  out 

283 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

of  the  difficulty  might  be  evolved;  as  if  Margaret 
herself  might  give  forth  a  hint  of  weakness  some- 
where that  would  show  her  how  to  plan. 

To  that  intent  she  had  come  close  in  the  group 
with  the  others  around  the  teacher  at  the  close  of 
meeting,  and,  so  standing,  had  overheard  all  that  the 
Brownleighs  had  said.  The  lightning  flash  of 
triumph  that  she  cast  at  Margaret  as  she  left  the 
school-house  was  her  own  signal  that  she  had  found 
a  way  at  last.  Her  opportunity  bad  come,  and  just 
in  time.  Forsythe  was  to  arrive  in  Arizona  some 
time  on  Tuesday,  and  wanted  Rosa  to  meet  him  at 
one  of  their  old  trysting-places,  out  some  distance 
from  her  father's  house.  He  knew  that  school  would 
just  be  over,  for  she  had  written  him  about  Com- 
mencement, and  so  he  understood  that  she  would 
be  free.  But  he  did  not  know  that  the  place  he  had 
selected  to  meet  her  was  on  one  of  Margaret's 
favorite  trails  where  she  and  Bud  often  rode  in  the 
late  afternoons,  and  that  above  all  things  Rosa  wished 
to  avoid  any  danger  of  meeting  her  teacher;  for  she 
not  only  feared  that  Forsythe's  attention  would  be 
drawn  away  from  her,  but  also  that  Margaret  might 
feel  it  her  duty  to  report  to  her  father  about  her 
clandestine  meeting. 

Rosa's  heart  beat  high  as  she  rode  demurely  home 
with  her  father,  answering  his  pleasantries  with 
smiles  and  dimples  and  a  coaxing  word,  just  as  he 
loved  to  have  her.  But  she  was  not  thinking  of 
her  father,  though  she  kept  well  her  mask  of  interest 
in  what  he  had  to  say.  She  was  trying  to  plan  how 
she  might  use  what  she  had  heard  to  get  rid  of 
Margaret  Earle.  If  only  Mrs.  Brownleigh  would  do 

284 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

as  she  had  hinted  and  send  some  one  Tuesday  morn- 
ing to  escort  Miss  Earle  over  to  her  home,  all  would 
be  clear  sailing  for  Rosa;  but  she  dared  not  trust 
to  such  a  possibility.  There  were  not  many  escorts 
coming  their  way  from  Ganado,  and  Rosa  happened 
to  know  that  the  old  Indian  who  frequently  escorted 
parties  was  off  in  another  direction.  She  could  not 
rest  on  any  such  hope.  When  she  reached  home  she 
went  at  once  to  her  room  and  sat  beside  her  window, 
gazing  off  at  the  purple  mountains  in  deep  thought. 
Then  she  lighted  a  candle  and  went  in  search  of 
a  certain  little  Testament,  long  since  neglected  and 
covered  with  dust.  She  found  it  at  last  on  the  top 
of  a  pile  of  books  in  a  dark  closet,  and  dragged  it 
forth,  eagerly  turning  the  pages.  Yes,  there  it 
was,  and  in  it  a  small  envelope  directed  to  "Miss 
Rosa  Rogers"  in  a  fine  angular  handwriting.  The 
letter  was  from  the  missionary's  wife  to  the  little  girl 
who  had  recited  her  texts  so  beautifully  as  to  earn 
the  Testament. 

Rosa  carried  it  to  her  desk,  secured  a  good  light, 
and  sat  down  to  read  it  over  carefully. 

No  thought  of  her  innocent  childish  exultation 
over  that  letter  came  to  her  now.  She  was  intent 
on  one  thing — the  handwriting.  Could  she  seize  the 
secret  of  it  and  reproduce  it?  She  had  before  often 
done  so  with  great  success.  She  could  imitate  Miss 
Earle' s  writing  so  perfectly  that  she  often  took  an 
impish  pleasure  in  changing  words  in  the  questions 
on  the  blackboard  and  making  them  read  absurdly 
for  the  benefit  of  the  school.  It  was  such  good  sport 
to  see  the  amazement  on  Margaret's  face  when  her 
attention  would  be  called  to  it  by  a  hilarious  class, 

19  285 


A    VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

and  to  watch  her  troubled  brow  when  she  read  what 
she  supposed  she  had  written. 

When  Rosa  was  but  a  little  child  she  used  to  boast 
that  she  could  write  her  father's  name  in  perfect 
imitation  of  his  signature;  and  often  signed  some 
trifling  receipt  for  him  just  for  amusement.  A  dan- 
gerous gift  in  the  hands  of  a  conscienceless  girH 
Yet  this  was  the  first  time  that  Rosa  had  really 
planned  to  use  her  art  in  any  serious  way.  Perhaps 
it  never  occurred  to  her  that  she  was  doing  wrong. 
At  present  her  heart  was  too  full  of  hate  and  fear 
and  jealous  love  to  care  for  right  or  wrong  or  any- 
thing else.  It  is  doubtful  if  she  would  have  hesi- 
tated a  second  even  if  the  thing  she  was  planning 
Tiad  suddenly  appeared  to  her  in  the  light  of  a  great 
crime.  She  seemed  sometimes  almost  like  a  creat- 
ure without  moral  sense,  so  swayed  was  she  by  her 
own  desires  and  feelings.  She  was  blind  now  to 
everything  but  her  great  desire  to  get  Margaret  out 
-of  the  way  and  have  Forsythe  to  herself. 

Long  after  her  father  and  the  servants  were  asleep 
Rosa's  light  burned  while  she  bent  over  her  desk, 
writing.  Page  after  page  she  covered  with  careful 
copies  of  Mrs.  Brownleigh's  letter  written  to  herself 
almost  three  years  before.  Finally  she  wrote  out 
the  alphabet,  bit  by  bit  as  she  picked  it  from  the 
words,  learning  just  how  each  letter  was  habitually 
formed,  the  small  letters  and  the  capitals,  with  the 
peculiarities  of  connection  and  ending.  At  last, 
when  she  lay  down  to  rest,  she  felt  herself  capable 
of  writing  a  pretty  fair  letter  in  Mrs.  Brownleigh's 
handwriting.  The  next  thing  was  to  make  her 
plan  and  compose  her  letter.  She  lay  staring  into 

286 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

the  darkness  and  trying  to  think  just  what  she 
could  do. 

In  the  first  place,  she  settled  it  that  Margaret 
must  be  gotten  to  Walpi  at  least.  It  would  not  do 
to  send  her  to  Ganado,  where  the  mission  station 
was,  for  that  was  a  comparatively  short  journey,  and 
she  could  easily  go  in  a  day.  When  the  fraud  was 
discovered,  as  of  course  it  would  be  when  Mrs. 
Brownleigh  heard  of  it,  Margaret  would  perhaps 
return  to  find  out  who  had  done  it.  No,  she  must 
be  sent  all  the  way  to  Walpi  if  possible.  That  would 
take  at  least  two  nights  and  the  most  of  two  days 
to  get  there.  Forsythe  had  said  his  stay  was  to  be 
short.  By  the  time  Margaret  got  back  from  Walpi 
Forsythe  would  be  gone. 

But  how  manage  to  get  her  to  Walpi  without  her 
suspicions  being  aroused?  She  might  word  the  note 
so  that  Margaret  would  be  told  to  come  half-way, 
expecting  to  meet  the  missionaries,  say  at  Keams. 
There  was  a  trail  straight  up  from  Ashland  to  Keams, 
cutting  off  quite  a  distance  and  leaving  Ganado  off 
at  the  right.  Keams  was  nearly  forty  miles  west  of 
Ganado.  That  would  do  nicely.  Then  if  she  could 
manage  to  have  another  note  left  at  Keams,  saying 
they  could  not  wait  and  had  gone  on,  Margaret 
would  suspect  nothing  and  go  all  the  way  to  Walpi. 
That  would  be  fine  and  would  give  the  school-teacher 
an  interesting  experience  which  wouldn't  hurt  her 
in  the  least.  Rosa  thought  it  might  be  rather  in- 
teresting than  otherwise.  She  had  no  compunctions 
whatever  about  how  Margaret  might  feel  when  she 
arrived  in  that  strange  Indian  town  and  found  no 
friends  awaiting  her.  Her  only  worry  was  where 

287 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

she  was  to  find  a  suitable  escort,  for  she  felt  assured 
that  Margaret  would  not  start  out  alone  with  one 
man  servant  on  an  expedition  that  would  keep  her 
out  overnight.  And  where  in  all  that  region  could 
she  find  a  woman  whom  she  could  trust  to  send  on 
the  errand?  It  almost  looked  as  though  the  thing 
were  an  impossibility.  She  lay  tossing  and  puzzling 
over  it  till  gray  dawn  stole  into  the  room.  She  men- 
tally reviewed  every  servant  on  the  place  on  whom 
she  could  rely  to  do  her  bidding  and  keep  her  secret, 
but  there  was  some  reason  why  each  one  would  not 
do.  She  scanned  the  country,  even  considering  old 
Ouida,  who  had  been  living  in  a  shack  over  beyond 
the  fort  ever  since  her  cabin  had  been  raided;  but 
old  Ouida  was  too  notorious.  Mrs.  Tanner  would 
keep  Margaret  from  going  with  her,  even  if  Mar- 
garet herself  did  not  know  the  old  woman's  reputa- 
tion. Rosa  considered  if  there  were  any  way  of 
wheedling  Mom  Wallis  into  the  affair,  and  gave  that 
up,  remembering  the  suspicious  little  twinkling  eyes 
of  Jasper  Kemp.  At  last  she  fell  asleep,  with  her 
plan  still  unformed  but  her  determination  to  carry 
it  through  just  as  strong  as  ever.  If  worst  came  to 
worst  she  would  send  the  half-breed  cook  from  the 
ranch  kitchen  and  put  something  in  the  note  about 
his  expecting  to  meet  his  sister  an  hour's  ride  out 
on  the  trail.  The  half-breed  would  do  anything  in 
the  world  for  money,  and  Rosa  had  no  trouble  in 
getting  all  she  wanted  of  that  commodity.  But  the 
half-breed  was  an  evil-looking  fellow,  and  she  feared 
lest  Margaret  would  not  like  to  go  with  him.  How- 
ever, he  should  be  a  last  resort.  She  would  not  be 
balked  in  her  purpose. 

288 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

ROSA  awoke  very  early,  for  her  sleep  had  been 
light  and  troubled.  She  dressed  hastily  and 
sat  down  to  compose  a  note  which  could  be  altered 
slightly  in  case  she  found  some  one  better  than  the 
half-breed;  but  before  she  was  half  through  the 
phrasing  she  heard  a  slight  disturbance  below  her 
window  and  a  muttering  in  guttural  tones  from  a 
strange  voice.  Glancing  hastily  out,  she  saw  some 
Indians  below,  talking  with  one  of  the  men,  who  was 
shaking  his  head  and  motioning  to  them  that  they 
must  go  on,  that  this  was  no  place  for  them  to  stop. 
The  Indian  motioned  to  his  squaw,  sitting  on  a  dilap- 
idated little  moth-eaten  burro  with  a  small  papoose 
in  her  arms  and  looking  both  dirty  and  miserable. 
He  muttered  as  though  he  were  pleading  for  some- 
thing. 

We  believe  that  God's  angels  follow  the  feet  of 
little  children  and  needy  ones  to  protect  them;  does 
the  devil  also  send  his  angels  to  lead  unwary  ones 
astray,  and  to  protect  the  plans  of  the  erring  ones? 
If  so  then  he  must  have  sent  these  Indians  that  morn- 
ing to  further  Rosa's  plans,  and  instantly  she  recog- 
nized her  opportunity.  She  leaned  out  of  her  win- 
dow and  spoke  in  a  clear,  reproving  voice: 

289 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

"James,  what  does  he  want?  Breakfast?  You 
know  father  wouldn't  want  any  hungry  person  to 
be  turned  away.  Let  them  sit  down  on  the  bench 
there  and  tell  Dorset  I  said  to  give  them  a  good  hot 
breakfast,  and  get  some  milk  for  the  baby.  Be 
quick  about  it,  too!" 

James  started  and  frowned  at  the  clear,  command- 
ing voice.  The  squaw  turned  grateful  animal  eyes  up 
to  the  little  beauty  in  the  window,  muttering  some 
inarticulate  thanks,  while  the  stolid  Indian's  eyes 
glittered  hopefully,  though  the  muscles  of  his  mask- 
like  countenance  changed  not  an  atom. 

Rosa  smiled  radiantly  and  ran  down  to  see  that 
her  orders  were  obeyed.  She  tried  to  talk  a  little 
with  the  squaw,  but  found  she  understood  very 
little  English.  The  Indian  spoke  better  and  gave 
her  their  brief  story.  They  were  on  their  way 
to  the  Navajo  reservation  to  the  far  north.  They 
had  been  unfortunate  enough  to  lose  their  last 
scanty  provisions  by  prowling  coyotes  during  the 
night,  and  were  in  need  of  food.  Rosa  gave  them 
a  place  to  sit  down  and  a  plentiful  breakfast,  and 
ordered  that  a  small  store  of  provisions  should  be 
prepared  for  their  journey  after  they  had  rested. 
Then  she  hurried  up  to  her  room  to  finish  her  letter. 
She  had  her  plan  well  fixed  now.  These  strangers 
should  be  her  willing  messengers.  Now  and  then, 
as  she  wrote  she  lifted  her  head  and  gazed  out  of 
the  window,  where  she  could  see  the  squaw  busy 
with  her  little  one,  and  her  eyes  fairly  glittered 
with  satisfaction.  Nothing  could  have  been  better 
planned  than  this. 

She  wrote  her  note  carefully: 

290 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

DEAR  MARGARET  [she  had  heard  [Hazel  call  Margaret  by 
her  first  name,  and  rightly  judged  that  their  new  friendship 
was  already  strong  enough  to  justify  this  intimacy], — I  have 
found  just  the  opportunity  I  wanted  for  you  to  come  to  us. 
These  Indians  are  thoroughly  trustworthy  and  are  coming  in 
just  the  direction  to  bring  you  to  a  point  where  we  will  meet 
you.  We  have  decided  to  go  on  to  Walpi  at  once,  and  will 
probably  meet  you  near  Keams,  or  a  little  farther  on.  The 
Indian  knows  the  way,  and  you  need  not  be  afraid.  I  trust 
him  perfectly.  Start  at  once,  please,  so  that  you  will  meet  us 
hi  time.  John  has  to  go  on  as  fast  as  possible.  I  know  you 
will  enjoy  the  trip,  and  am  so  glad  you  are  coming. 

Lovingly, 
HAZEL  RADCLIFFE  BROWNLEIGH. 

Rosa  read  it  over,  comparing  it  carefully  with  the 
little  yellow  note  from  her  Testament,  and  decided 
that  it  was  a  very  good  imitation.  She  could  almost 
hear  Mrs.  Brownleigh  saying  what  she  had  written. 
Rosa  really  was  quite  clever.  She  had  done  it  well. 

She  hastily  sealed  and  addressed  her  letter,  and 
then  hurried  down  to  talk  with  the  Indians  again. 

The  place  she  had  ordered  for  them  to  rest  was 
at  some  distance  from  the  kitchen  door,  a  sort  of 
outshed  for  the  shelter  of  certain  implements  used 
about  the  ranch.  A  long  bench  ran  in  front  of  it, 
and  a  big  tree  made  a  goodly  shade.  The  Indians 
had  found  their  temporary  camp  quite  inviting. 

Rosa  made  a  detour  of  the  shed,  satisfied  herself 
that  no  one  was  within  hearing,  and  then  sat  down 
on  the  bench,  ostensibly  playing  with  the  papoose, 
dangling  a  red  ball  on  a  ribbon  before  his  dazzled, 
bead-like  eyes  and  bringing  forth  a  gurgle  of  delight 
from  the  dusky  little  mummy.  While  she  played  she 
talked  idly  with  the  Indians.  Had  they  money 
enough  for  their  journey?  Would  they  like  to  earn 

291 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

some?  Would  they  act  as  guide  to  a  lady  who 
wanted  to  go  to  Walpi?  At  least  she  wanted  to  go 
as  far  as  Keams,  where  she  might  meet  friends,  mis- 
sionaries, who  were  going  on  with  her  to  Walpi  to 
visit  the  Indians.  If  they  didn't  meet  her  she  wanted 
to  be  guided  all  the  way  to  Walpi?  Would  they 
undertake  it?  It  would  pay  them  well.  They 
would  get  money  enough  for  their  journey  and  have 
some  left  when  they  got  to  the  reservation.  And 
Rosa,  displayed  two  gold  pieces  temptingly  in  her 
small  palms. 

The  Indian  uttered  a  guttural  sort  of  gasp  at 
sight  of  so  much  money,  and  sat  upright.  He 
gasped  again,  indicating  by  a  solemn  nod  that  he 
was  agreeable  to  the  task  before  him,  and  the  girl 
went  gaily  on  with  her  instructions: 

"You  will  have  to  take  some  things  along  to  make 
the  lady  comfortable.  I  will  see  that  those  are  got 
ready.  Then  you  can  have  the  things  for  your 
own  when  you  leave  the  lady  at  Walpi.  You  will 
have  to  take  a  letter  to  the  lady  and  tell  her  you  are 
going  this  afternoon,  and  she  must  be  ready  to 
start  at  once  or  she  will  not  meet  the  missionary. 
Tell  her  you  can  only  wait  until  three  o'clock  to 
start.  You  will  find  the  lady  at  the  school-house 
at  noon.  You  must  not  come  till  noon — "  Rosa 
pointed  to  the  sun  and  then  straight  overhead.  The 
Indian  watched  her  keenly  and  nodded. 

"You  must  ask  for  Miss  Earle  and  give  her  this 
letter.  She  is  the  school-teacher." 

The  Indian  grunted  and  looked  at  the  white  mis- 
sive in  Rosa's  hand,  noting  once  more  the  gleam  of 
the  gold  pieces. 

292 


A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

"You  must  wait  till  the  teacher  goes  to  her 
boarding-house  and  packs  her  things  and  eats  her 
dinner.  If  anybody  asks  where  you  came  from  you 
must  say  the  missionary's  wife  from  Ganado  sent 
you.  Don't  tell  anybody  anything  else.  Do  you 
understand?  More  money  if  you  don't  say  any- 
thing?" Rosa  clinked  the  gold  pieces  softly. 

The  strange,  sphinx-like  gaze  of  the  Indian  nar- 
rowed comprehensively.  He  understood.  His  na- 
tive cunning  was  being  bought  for  this  girl's  own 
purposes.  He  looked  greedily  at  the  money.  Rosa 
had  put  her  hand  m  her  pocket  and  brought  out  yet 
another  gold  piece. 

"See!  I  give  you  this  one  now" — she  laid  one 
gold  piece  in  the  Indian's  hand — "and  these  two  I 
put  in  an  envelope  and  pack  with  some  provisions 
and  blankets  on  another  horse.  I  will  leave  the 
horse  tied  to  a  tree  up  where  the  big  trail  crosses 
this  big  trail  out  that  way.  You  know?" 

Rosa  pointed  in  the  direction  she  meant,  and  the 
Indian  looked  and  grunted,  his  eyes  returning  to  the 
two  gold  pieces  in  her  hand.  It  was  a  great  deal 
of  money  for  the  little  lady  to  give.  Was  she  trying 
to  cheat  him?  He  looked  down  at  the  gold  he  al- 
ready held.  It  was  good  money.  He  was  sure  of 
that.  He  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"I  shall  be  watching  and  I  shall  know  whether 
you  have  the  lady  or  not,"  went  on  the  girl,  sharply. 
"If  you  do  not  bring  the  lady  with  you  there  will  be 
no  money  and  no  provisions  waiting  for  you.  But 
if  you  bring  the  lady  you  can  untie  the  horse  and 
take  him  with  you.  You  will  need  the  horse  to 
carry  the  things.  When  you  get  to  Walpi  you  can 

293 


A   VOICE   IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

set  him  free.  He  is  branded  and  he  will  likely  coma 
back.  We  shall  find  him.  See,  I  will  put  the  gold 
pieces  in  this  tin  can." 

She  picked  up  a  sardine-tin  that  lay  at  her  feet, 
slipped  the  gold  pieces  in  an  envelope  from  her 
pocket,  stuffed  it  in  the  tin,  bent  down  the  cover, 
and  held  it  up. 

"This  can  will  be  packed  on  the  top  of  the  other 
provisions,  and  you  can  open  it  and  take  the  money 
out  when  you  untie  the  horse.  Then  hurry  on  as 
fast  as  you  can  and  get  as  far  along  the  trail  as 
possible  to-night  before  you  camp.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

The  Indian  nodded  once  more,  and  Rosa  felt  that 
she  had  a  confederate  worthy  of  her  need. 

She  stayed  a  few  minutes  more,  going  carefully 
over  her  directions,  telling  the  Indian  to  be  sure  his 
squaw  was  kind  to  the  lady,  and  that  on  no  account 
he  should  let  the  lady  get  uneasy  or  have  cause  to 
complain  of  her  treatment,  or  trouble  would  surely 
come  to  him.  At  last  she  felt  sure  she  had  made 
him  understand,  and  she  hurried  away  to  slip  into 
her  pretty  white  dress  and  rose-colored  ribbons  and 
ride  to  school.  Before  she  left  her  room  she  glanced 
out  of  the  window  at  the  Indians,  and  saw  them 
sitting  motionless,  like  a  group  of  bronze.  Once  the 
Indian  stirred  and,  putting  his  hand  in  his  bosom, 
drew  forth  the  white  letter  she  had  given  him, 
gazed  at  it  a  moment,  and  hid  it  in  his  breast  again. 
She  nodded  her  satisfaction  as  she  turned  from  the 
window.  The  next  thing  was  to  get  to  school  and 
play  her  own  part  hi  the  Commencement  exercises. 

The  morning  was  bright,  and  the  school-house  was 

294 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

already  filled  to  overflowing  when  Rosa  arrived. 
Her  coming,  as  always,  made  a  little  stir  among  ad- 
miring groups,  for  even  those  who  feared  her  ad- 
mired her  from  afar.  She  fluttered  into  the  school- 
house  and  up  the  aisle  with  the  air  of  a  princess  who 
knew  she  had  been  waited  for  and  was  condescend- 
ing to  come  at  all. 

Rosa  was  hi  everything — the  drills,  the  march, 
the  choruses,  and  the  crowning  oration.  She  went 
through  it  all  with  the  perfection  of  a  bright  mind 
and  an  adaptable  nature.  One  would  never  have 
dreamed,  to  look  at  her  pretty  dimpling  face  and  her 
sparkling  eyes,  what  diabolical  things  were  moving 
in  her  mind,  nor  how  those  eyes,  lynx-soft  with 
lurking  sweetness  and  treachery,  were  watching  all 
the  tune  furtively  for  the  appearance  of  the  old 
Indian. 

At  last  she  saw  him,  standing  in  a  group  just  out- 
side the  window  near  the  platform,  his  tall  form  and 
stern  countenance  marking  him  among  the  crowd 
of  familiar  faces.  She  was  receiving  her  diploma 
from  the  hand  of  Margaret  when  she  caught  his  eye, 
and  her  hand  trembled  just  a  quiver  as  she  took 
the  dainty  roll  tied  with  blue  and  white  ribbons. 
That  he  recognized  her  she  was  sure;  that  he  knew 
she  did  not  wish  him  to  make  known  his  connection 
with  her  she  felt  equally  convinced  he  understood. 
His  eye  had  that  comprehending  look  of  withdrawal. 
She  did  not  look  up  directly  at  him  again.  Her  eyes 
were  daintily  downward.  Nevertheless,  she  missed 
not  a  turn  of  his  head,  not  a  glance  from  that  stern 
eye,  and  she  knew  the  moment  when  he  stood  at 
the  front  door  of  the  school-house  with  the  letter  in 

295 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

his  hand,  stolid  and  indifferent,  yet  a  great  force 
to  be  reckoned  with. 

Some  one  looked  at  the  letter,  pointed  to  Margaret, 
called  her,  and  she  came.  Rosa  was  not  far  away 
all  the  time,  talking  with  Jed;  her  eyes  downcast, 
her  cheeks  dimpling,  missing  nothing  that  could  be 
heard  or  seen. 

Margaret  read  the  letter.  Rosa  watched  her, 
knew  every  curve  of  every  letter  and  syllable  as  she 
read,  held  her  breath,  and  watched  Margaret 's  ex- 
pression. Did  she  suspect?  No.  A  look  of  intense 
relief  and  pleasure  had  come  into  her  eyes.  She 
was  glad  to  have  found  a  way  to  go.  She  turned  to 
Mrs.  Tanner. 

"What  do  you  think  of  this,  Mrs.  Tanner?  I'm 
to  go  with  Mrs.  Brownleigh  on  a  trip  to  Walpi. 
Isn't  that  delicious?  I'm  to  start  at  once.  Do  you 
suppose  I  could  have  a  bite  to  eat?  I  won't  need 
much.  I'm  too  tired  to  eat  and  too  anxious  to  be 
off.  If  you  give  me  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  sandwich 
I'll  be  all  right.  I've  got  things  about  ready  to  go, 
for  Mrs.  Brownleigh  told  me  she  would  send  some 
one  for  me." 

"H'm!"  said  Mrs.  Tanner,  disapprovingly.  "Who 
you  goin'  with?  Just  him?  I  don't  much  like 
his  looks!" 

She  spoke  in  a  low  tone  so  the  Indian  would  not 
hear,  and  it  was  almost  in  Rosa's  very  ear,  who  stood 
just  behind.  Rosa's  heart  stopped  a  beat  and  she 
frowned  at  the  toe  of  her  slipper.  Was  this  common 
little  Tanner  woman  going  to  be  the  one  to  balk  her 
plans? 

Margaret  raised  her  head  now  for  her  first  good 

296 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

look  at  the  Indian,  and  it  must  be  admitted  a  chill 
came  into  her  heart.  Then,  as  if  he  comprehended 
what  was  at  stake,  the  Indian  turned  sKghtly  and 
pointed  down  the  path  toward  the  road.  By  com- 
mon consent  the  few  who  were  standing  about  the 
door  stepped  back  and  made  a  vista  for  Margaret 
to  see  the  squaw  sitting  statue-like  on  her  scraggy 
little  pony,  gazing  off  at  the  mountain  in  the  distance, 
as  if  she  were  sitting  for  her  picture,  her  solemn  little 
papoose  strapped  to  her  back. 

Margaret's  troubled  eyes  cleared.  The  family 
aspect  made  things  all  right  again.  "You  see,  he 
has  his  wife  and  child,"  she  said.  "  It's  all  right. 
Mrs.  Brownleigh  says  she  trusts  him  perfectly,  and 
I'm  to  meet  them  on  the  way.  Read  the  letter." 

She  thrust  the  letter  into  Mrs.  Tanner's  hand, 
and  Rosa  trembled  for  her  scheme  once  more. 
Surely,  surely  Mrs.  Tanner  would  not  be  able  to 
detect  the  forgery! 

"H'm!  Well,  I  s'pose  it's  all  right  if  she  says  so, 
but  I'm  sure  I  don't  relish  them  pesky  Injuns,  and 
I  don't  think  that  squaw  wife  of  his  looks  any  great 
shakes,  either.  They  look  to  me  like  they  needed 
a  good  scrub  with  Bristol  brick.  But  then,  if  you're 
get  on  going,  you'll  go,  'course.  I  jest  wish  Bud 
hadn't  'a'  gone  home  with  that  Jasper  Kemp.  He 
might  'a'  gone  along,  an'  then  you'd  'a'  had  some- 
body to  speak  English  to." 

"Yes,  it  would  have  been  nice  to  have  William 
along,"  said  Margaret;  "but  I  think  I'll  be  all 
right.  Mrs.  Brownleigh  wouldn't  send  anybody 
that  wasn't  nice." 

"H'm!    I  dun'no'!    She's  an  awful  crank.    She 

297 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

just  loves  them  Injuns,  they  say.  But  I,  fer  one, 
draw  the  line  at  holdin'  'em  in  my  lap.  I  don't 
b'lieve  in  mixin'  folks  up  that  way.  Preach  to  'em 
if  you  like,  but  let  'em  keep  their  distance,  I  say." 

Margaret  laughed  and  went  off  to  pick  up  her 
things.  Rosa  stood  smiling  and  talking  to  Jed  until 
she  saw  Margaret  and  Mrs.  Tanner  go  off  together, 
the  Indians  riding  slowly  along  behind. 

Rosa  waited  until  the  Indians  had  turned  off  the 
road  down  toward  the  Tanners',  and  then  she  mount- 
ed her  own  pony  and  rode  swiftly  home. 

She  rushed  up  to  her  room  and  took  off  her  fine 
apparel,  arraying  herself  quickly  in  a  plain  little 
gown,  and  went  down  to  prepare  the  provisions. 
There  was  none  too  much  time,  and  she  must  work 
rapidly.  It  was  well  for  her  plans  that  she  was  all- 
powerful  with  the  servants  and  could  send  them 
about  at  will  to  get  them  out  of  her  way.  She  in- 
vented a  duty  for  each  now  that  would  take  them 
for  a  few  minutes  well  out  of  sight  and  sound;  then 
she  hurried  together  the  provisions  in  a  basket, 
making  two  trips  to  get  them  to  the  shelter  where 
she  had  told  the  Indian  he  would  find  the  horse 
tied.  She  had  to  make  a  third  trip  to  bring  the 
blankets  and  a  few  other  things  she  knew  would 
be  indispensable,  but  the  whole  outfit  was  really 
but  carelessly  gotten  together,  and  it  was  just  by 
chance  that  some  things  got  in  at  all. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  find  the  old  cayuse  she  in- 
tended using  for  a  pack-horse.  He  was  browsing 
around  in  the  corral,  and  she  soon  had  a  halter  over 
his  head,  for  she  had  been  quite  used  to  horses  from 
her  babyhood. 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

She  packed  the  canned  things,  tinned  meats,  vege- 
tables, and  fruit  into  a  couple  of  large  sacks,  adding 
some  fodder  for  the  horses,  a  box  of  matches,  some 
uorn  bread,  of  which  there  was  always  plenty  on 
hand  in  the  house,  some  salt  pork,  and  a  few  tin 
dishes.  These  she  slung  pack  fashion  over  the  old 
horse,  fastened  the  sardine-tin  containing  the  gold 
pieces  where  it  would  be  easily  found,  tied  the  horse 
to  a  tree,  and  retired  behind  a  shelter  of  sage-brush 
to  watch. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  little  caravan  came, 
the  Indians  riding  ahead  single  file,  like  two  graven 
images,  moving  not  a  muscle  of  their  faces,  and  Mar- 
garet a  little  way  behind  on  her  own  pony,  her  face 
as  happy  and  relieved  as  if  she  were  a  child  let  out 
from  a  hard  task  to  play. 

The  Indian  stopped  beside  the  horse,  a  glitter  of 
satisfaction  in  his  eyes  as  he  saw  that  the  little  lady 
had  fulfilled  her  part  of  the  bargain.  He  indicated 
to  the  squaw  and  the  lady  that  they  might  move 
on  down  the  trail,  and  he  would  catch  up  with  them; 
and  then  dismounted,  pouncing  warily  upon  the 
sardine-tin  at  once.  He  looked  furtively  about, 
then  took  out  the  money  and  tested  it  with  his 
teeth  to  make  sure  it  was  genuine. 

He  grunted  his  further  satisfaction,  looked  over 
the  pack-horse,  made  more  secure  the  fastenings  of  ( 
tlae  load,  and,  taking  the  halter,  mounted  and  rode 
stolidly  away  toward  the  north. 

Rosa  waited  in  her  covert  until  they  were  far 
out  of  sight,  then  made  her  way  hurriedly  back  to 
the  house  and  climbed  to  a  window  where  she 
could  watch  the  trail  for  several  miles.  There,  with 

299 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

a  field-glass,  she  kept  watch  until  the  procession  had 
filed  across  the  plains,  down  into  a  valley,  up  over 
a  hill,  and  dropped  to  a  farther  valley  out  of  sight. 
She  looked  at  the  sun  and  drew  a  breath  of  satis- 
faction. She  had  done  it  at  last!  She  had  got  Mar- 
garet away  before  Forsythe  camel  There  was  no 
likelihood  that  the  fraud  would  be  discovered  until 
her  rival  was  far  enough  away  to  be  safe.  A  kind 
of  reaction  came  upon  Rosa's  overwrought  nerves. 
She  laughed  out  harshly,  and  her  voice  had  a  cruel 
ring  to  it.  Then  she  threw  herself  upon  the  bed 
and  burst  into  a  passionate  fit  of  weeping,  and  so, 
by  and  by,  fell  asleep.  She  dreamed  that  Mar- 
garet had  returned  like  a  shining,  fiery  angel,  a  two- 
edged  sword  in  her  hand  and  all  the  Wallis  camp 
at  her  heels,  with  vengeance  in  their  wake.  That 
hateful  little  boy,  Bud  Tanner,  danced  around  and 
made  faces  at  her,  while  Forsythe  had  forgotten  her 
to  gaze  at  Margaret's  face. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

TO  Margaret  the  day  was  very  fair,  and  the 
omens  all  auspicious.  She  carried  with  her 
close  to  her  heart  two  precious  letters  received  that 
morning  and  scarcely  glanced  at  as  yet,  one  from 
Gardley  and  one  from  her  mother.  She  had  had 
only  time  to  open  them  and  be  sure  that  afl  was 
well  with  her  dear  ones,  and  had  left  the  rest  to 
read  on  the  way. 

She  was  dressed  in  the  khaki  riding-habit  she 
always  wore  when  she  went  on  horseback;  and  in 
the  bag  strapped  on  behind  she  carried  a  couple  of 
fresh  white  blouses,  a  thin,  white  dress,  a  little  soft 
dark  silk  gown  that  folded  away  almost  into  a  cob- 
web, and  a  few  other  necessities.  She  had  also 
slipped  in  a  new  book  her  mother  had  sent  her, 
into  which  she  had  had  as  yet  no  time  to  look,  and 
her  chessmen  and  board,  besides  writing  materials. 
She  prided  herself  on  having  got  so  many  necessaries 
into  so  small  a  compass.  She  would  need  the  extra 
clothing  if  she  stayed  at  Ganado  with  the  mission- 
aries for  a  week  on  her  return  from  the  trip,  and  the 
book  and  chessmen  would  amuse  them  all  by  the 
way.  She  had  heard  Brownleigh  say  he  loved  to 
play  chess. 

20  301 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Margaret  rode  on  the  familiar  trail,  and  for  the 
first  hour  just  let  herself  be  glad  that  school  was 
over  and  she  could  rest  and  have  no  responsibility. 
The  sun  shimmered  down  brilliantly  on  the  white, 
hot  sand  and  gray-green  of  the  greasewood  and 
sage-brush.  Tall  spikes  of  cactus  like  lonely  spires 
shot  up  now  and  again  to  vary  the  scene.  It  was 
all  familiar  ground  to  Margaret  around  here,  for  she 
had  taken  many  rides  wiih  Gardley  and  Bud,  and  for 
the  first  part  of  the  way  every  turn  and  bit  of  view 
was  fraught  with  pleasant  memories  that  brought 
a  smile  to  her  eyes  as  she  recalled  some  quotation  of 
Gardley's  or  some  prank  of  Bud's.  Here  was  where 
they  first  sighted  the  little  cottontail  the  day  she 
took  her  initial  ride  on  her  own  pony.  Off  there  was 
the  mountain  where  they  saw  the  sun  drawing  silver 
water  above  a  frowning  storm.  Yonder  was  the 
group  of  cedars  where  they  had  stopped  to  eat  their 
lunch  once,  and  this  water-hole  they  were  approach- 
ing was  the  one  where  Gardley  had  given  her  a 
drink  from  his  hat. 

She  was  almost  glad  that  Bud  was  not  along,  for 
she  was  too  tired  to  talk  and  liked  to  be  alone  with 
her  thoughts  for  this  few  minutes.  Poor  Bud!  He 
would  be  disappointed  when  he  got  back  to  find  her 
gone,  but  then  he  had  expected  she  was  going  in  a 
few  days,  anyway,  and  she  had  promised  to  take 
long  rides  with  him  when  she  returned.  She  had 
left  a  little  note  for  him,  asking  him  to  read  a  certain 
book  in  her  bookcase  while  she  was  gone,  and 
be  ready  to  discuss  it  with  her  when  she  got  back, 
and  Bud  would  be  fascinated  with  it,  she  knew. 
Bud  had  been  dear  and  faithful,  and  she  would  miss 

302 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

him,  but  just  for  this  little  while  she  was  glad  to 
have  the  great  out-of-doors  to  herself. 

She  was  practically  alone.  The  two  sphinx-like 
figures  riding  ahead  of  her  made  no  sign,  but  stolidly 
rode  on  hour  after  hour,  nor  turned  their  heads  even 
to  see  if  she  were  coming.  She  knew  that  Indians 
were  this  way;  still,  as  the  time  went  by  she  began 
to  feel  an  uneasy  sense  of  being  alone  in  the  universe 
with  a  couple  of  bronze  statues.  Even  the  papoose 
had  erased  itself  in  sleep,  and  when  it  awoke  partook 
so  fully  of  its  racial  peculiarities  as  to  hold  its  little 
peace  and  make  no  fuss.  Margaret  began  to  feel 
the  baby  was  hardly  human,  more  like  a  little  brown 
doll  set  up  in  a  missionary  meeting  to  teach  white 
children  what  a  papoose  was  like. 

By  and  by  she  got  out  her  letters  and  read  them 
over  carefully,  dreaming  and  smiling  over  them,  and 
getting  precious  bits  by  heart.  Gardley  hinted  that 
he  might  be  able  very  soon  to  visit  her  parents,  as  it 
looked  as  though  he  might  have  to  make  a  trip  on 
business  in  their  direction  before  he  could  go  further 
with  what  he  was  doing  in  his  old  home.  He  gave 
no  hint  of  soon  returning  to  the  West.  He  said  he 
was  awaiting  the  return  of  one  man  who  might 
soon  be  coming  from  abroad.  Margaret  sighed  and 
wondered  how  many  weary  months  it  would  be  be- 
fore she  would  see  him.  Perhaps,  after  all,  she  ought 
to  have  gone  home  and  stayed  them  out  with  her 
mother  and  father.  If  the  school-board  could  be 
made  to  see  that  it  would  be  better  to  have  no  sum- 
mer session,  perhaps  she  would  even  yet  go  when 
she  returned  from  the  Brownleighs7.  She  would  see. 
She  would  decide  nothing  until  she  was  rested. 

303 


A   VOICE   IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

Suddenly  she  felt  herself  overwhelmingly  weary, 
and  wished  that  the  Indians  would  stop  and  rest  for 
a  while;  but  when  she  stirred  up  her  sleepy  pony 
and  spurred  ahead  to  broach  the  matter  to  her  guide 
he  shook  his  solemn  head  and  pointed  to  the  sun: 

"No  get  Keams  good  time.    No  meet  Aneshodi." 

"Aneshodi,"  she  knew,  was  the  Indians*  name  for 
the  missionary,  and  she  smiled  her  acquiescence. 
Of  course  they  must  meet  the  Brownleighs  and  not 
detain  them.  What  was  it  Hazel  had  said  about 
having  to  hurry?  She  searched  her  pocket  for  the 
letter,  and  then  remembered  she  had  left  it  with 
Mrs.  Tanner.  What  a  pity  she  had  not  brought  it! 
Perhaps  there  was  some  caution  or  advice  in  it  that 
she  had  not  taken  note  of.  But  then  the  Indian 
likely  knew  all  about  it,  and  she  could  trust  to  him. 
She  glanced  at  his  stolid  face  and  wished  she  could 
make  him  smile.  She  cast  a  sunny  smile  at  him 
and  said  something  pleasant  about  the  beautiful 
day,  but  he  only  looked  her  through  as  if  she  were 
not  there,  and  after  one  or  two  more  attempts  she 
fell  back  and  tried  to  talk  to  the  squaw;  but  the 
squaw  only  looked  stolid,  too,  and  shook  her  head. 
She  did  not  seem  friendly.  Margaret  drew  back  into 
her  old  position  and  feasted  her  eyes  upon  the  dis- 
tant hills. 

The  road  was  growing  unfamiliar  now.  They  were 
crossing  rough  ridges  with  cliffs  of  red  sandstone, 
and  every  step  of  the  way  was  interesting.  Yet 
Margaret  felt  more  and  more  how  much  she  wanted 
to  lie  down  and  sleep,  and  when  at  last  in  the  dusk 
the  Indians  halted  not  far  from  a  little  pool  of  rain- 
water and  indicated  that  here  they  would  camp  for 

304 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

the  night,  Margaret  was  too  weary  to  question  the 
decision.  It  had  not  occurred  to  her  that  she  would 
be  on  the  way  overnight  before  she  met  her  friends. 
Her  knowledge  of  the  way,  and  of  distances,  was  but 
vague.  It  is  doubtful  if  she  would  have  ventured 
had  she  known  that  she  must  pass  the  night  thus 
in  the  company  of  two  strange  savage  creatures. 
Yet,  now  that  she  was  here  and  it  was  inevitable,  she 
would  not  shrink,  but  make  the  best  of  it.  She  tried 
to  be  friendly  once  more,  and  offered  to  look  out  for 
the  baby  while  the  squaw  gathered  wood  and  made 
a  fire.  The  Indian  was  off  looking  after  the  horses, 
evidently  expecting  his  wife  to  do  all  the  work. 

Margaret  watched  a  few  minutes,  while  pretend- 
ing to  play  with  the  baby,  who  was  both  sleepy  and 
hungry,  yet  held  his  emotions  as  stolidly  as  if  he 
were  a  grown  person.  Then  she  decided  to  take  a 
hand  in  the  supper.  She  was  hungry  and  could  not 
bear  that  those  dusky,  dirty  hands  should  set  forth 
her  food,  so  she  went  to  work  cheerfully,  giving  direc- 
tions as  if  the  Indian  woman  understood  her,  though 
she  very  soon  discovered  that  all  her  talk  was  as 
mere  babbling  to  the  other,  and  she  might  as  well 
hold  her  peace.  The  woman  set  a  kettle  of  water 
over  the  fire,  and  Margaret  forestalled  her  next 
movement  by  cutting  some  pork  and  putting  it  to 
cook  in  a  little  skillet  she  found  among  the  pro- 
visions. The  woman  watched  her  solemnly,  not 
seeming  to  care;  and  so,  silently,  each  went  about 
her  own  preparations. 

The  supper  was  a  silent  affair,  and  when  it  was 
over  the  squaw  handed  Margaret  a  blanket.  Sud- 
denly she  understood  that  this,  and  this  alone,  was 

305 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

to  be  her  bed  for  the  night.  The  earth  was  there  for 
a  mattress,  and  the  sage-brush  lent  a  partial  shelter, 
the  canopy  of  stars  was  overhead. 

A  kind  of  panic  took  possession  of  her.  She  stared 
at  the  squaw  and  found  herself  longing  to  cry  out 
for  help.  It  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  bear  this 
awful  silence  of  the  mortals  who  were  her  only  com- 
pany. Yet  her  common  sense  came  to  her  aid,  and 
she  realized  that  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
make  the  best  of  things.  So  she  took  the  blanket 
and,  spreading  it  out,  sat  down  upon  it  and  wrapped 
it  about  her  shoulders  and  feet.  She  would  not  lie 
down  until  she  saw  what  the  rest  did.  Somehow  she 
shrank  from  asking  the  bronze  man  how  to  fold  a 
blanket  for  a  bed  on  the  ground.  She  tried  to 
remember  what  Gardley  had  told  her  about  folding 
the  blanket  bed  so  as  best  to  keep  out  snakes  and 
ants.  She  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  snakes. 
Would  she  dare  call  for  help  from  those  stolid  com- 
panions of  hers  if  a  snake  should  attempt  to  molest 
her  in  the  night?  And  would  she  ever  dare  to  go 
to  sleep? 

She  remembered  her  first  night  in  Arizona  out 
among  the  stars,  alone  on  the  water-tank,  and  her 
first  frenzy  of  loneliness.  Was  this  as  bad?  No, 
for  these  Indians  were  trustworthy  and  well  known 
by  her  dear  friends.  It  might  be  unpleasant,  but 
this,  too,  would  pass  and  the  morrow  would  soon 
be  here. 

The  dusk  dropped  down  and  the  stars  loomed  out. 
All  the  world  grew  wonderful,  like  a  blue  jeweled 
dome  of  a  palace  with  the  lights  turned  low.  The 

fire  burned  brightly  AS  the  man  threw  sticks  upon  it, 

306 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

and  the  two  Indians  moved  stealthily  about  in  the 
darkness,  passing  silhouetted  before  the  fire  this  way 
and  that,  and  then  at  last  lying  down  wrapped  in 
their  blankets  to  sleep. 

It  was  very  quiet  about  her.  The  air  was  so  still 
she  could  hear  the  hobbled  horses  munching  away 
in  the  distance,  and  moving  now  and  then  with  the 
halting  gait  a  hobble  gives  a  horse.  Off  in  the  farther 
distance  the  blood-curdling  howl  of  the  coyotes  rose, 
but  Margaret  was  used  to  them,  and  knew  they 
would  not  come  near  a  fire. 

She  was  growing  very  weary,  and  at  last  wrapped 
her  blanket  closer  and  lay  down,  her  head  pillowed 
on  one  corner  of  it.  Committing  herself  to  her 
Heavenly  Father,  and  breathing  a  prayer  for  father, 
mother,  and  lover,  she  fell  asleep. 

It  was  still  almost  dark  when  she  awoke.  For  a 
moment  she  thought  it  was  still  night  and  the  sun- 
set was  not  gone  yet,  the  clouds  were  so  rosy  tinted. 

The  squaw  was  standing  by  her,  touching  her 
shoulder  roughly  and  grunting  something.  She  per- 
ceived, as  she  rubbed  her  eyes  and  tried  to  summon 
back  her  senses,  that  she  was  expected  to  get  up 
and  eat  breakfast.  There  was  a  smell  of  pork  and 
coffee  in  the  air,  and  there  was  scorched  corn  bread 
beside  the  fire  on  a  pan. 

Margaret  got  up  quickly  and  ran  down  to  the 
water-hole  to  get  some  water,  dashing  it  in  her  face 
and  over  her  arms  and  hands,  the  squaw  meanwhile 
standing  at  a  little  distance,  watching  her  curiously, 
as  if  she  thought  this  some  kind  of  an  oblation  paid 
to  the  white  woman's  god  before  she  ate.  Mar- 
garet pulled  the  hair-pins  out  of  her  hair,  letting  it 

307 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

down  and  combing  it  with  one  of  her  side  combs; 
twisted  it  up  again  in  its  soft,  fluffy  waves;  straight- 
ened her  collar,  set  on  her  hat,  and  was  ready  for 
the  day.  The  squaw  looked  at  her  with  both  awe 
and  contempt  for  a  moment,  then  turned  and 
stalked  back  to  her  papoose  and  began  preparing  it 
for  the  journey. 

Margaret  made  a  hurried  meal  and  was  scarcely 
done  before  she  found  her  guides  were  waiting  like 
two  pillars  of  the  desert,  but  watching  keenly,  im- 
patiently, her  every  mouthful,  and  anxious  to  be  off. 

The  sky  was  still  pink-tinted  with  the  semblance 
of  a  sunset,  and  Margaret  felt,  as  she  mounted  her 
pony  and  followed  her  companions,  as  if  the  day  was 
all  turned  upside  down.  She  almost  wondered 
whether  she  hadn't  slept  through  a  whole  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  it  were  not,  after  all,  evening  again, 
till  by  and  by  the  sun  rose  clear  and  the  wonder  of 
the  cloud-tinting  melted  into  day. 

The  road  lay  through  sage-brush  and  old  barren 
cedar-trees,  with  rabbits  darting  now  and  then  be- 
tween the  rocks.  Suddenly  from  the  top  of  a  little 
hill  they  came  out  to  a  spot  where  they  could  see 
far  over  the  desert.  Forty  miles  away  three  square, 
flat  hills,  or  mesas,  looked  like  a  gigantic  train  of 
cars,  and  the  clear  ah-  gave  everything  a  strange 
vastness.  Farther  on  beyond  the  mesas  dimly 
dawned  the  Black  Mountains.  One  could  even  see 
the  shadowed  head  of  " Round  Rock,"  almost  a  hun- 
dred miles  away.  Before  them  and  around  was  a 
great  plain  of  sage-brush,  and  here  and  there  was  a 
small  bush  that  the  Indians  call  "the  weed  that 
was  not  scared.'*  Margaret  had  learned  all  these 

30S 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

things  during  her  winter  in  Arizona,  and  keenly  en^ 
joyed  the  vast,  splendid  view  spread  before  her. 

They  passed  several  little  mud-plastered  hogans 
that  Margaret  knew  for  Indian  dwellings.  A  fine 
band  of  ponies  off  hi  the  distance  made  an  interest- 
ing spot  on  the  landscape,  and  twice  they  passed 
bands  of  sheep.  She  had  a  feeling  of  great  isolation 
from  everything  she  had  ever  known,  and  seemed 
going  farther  and  farther  from  life  and  all  she  loved. 
Once  she  ventured  to  ask  the  Indian  what  time  he 
expected  to  meet  her  friends,  the  missionaries,  but 
he  only  shook  his  head  and  murmured  something 
unintelligible  about  " Reams"  and  pointed  to  the 
sun.  She  dropped  behind  again,  vaguely  uneasy, 
she  could  not  tell  why.  There  seemed  something  so 
altogether  sly  and  wary  and  unfriendly  in  the  faces 
of  the  two  that  she  almost  wished  she  had  not  come. 
Yet  the  way  was  beautiful  enough  and  nothing  very 
unpleasant  was  happening  to  her.  Once  she  dropped 
the  envelope  of  her  mother's  letter  and  was  about  to 
dismount  and  recover  it.  Then  some  strange  im- 
pulse made  her  leave  it  on  the  sand  of  the  desert. 
What  if  they  should  be  lost  and  that  paper  should 
guide  them  back?  The  notion  stayed  by  her,  and 
once  in  a  while  she  dropped  other  bits  of  paper  by 
the  way. 

About  noon  the  trail  dropped  off  into  a  canon, 
with  high,  yellow-rock  walls  on  either  side,  and 
stifling  heat,  so  that  she  felt  as  if  she  could  scarcely 
stand  it.  She  was  glad  when  they  emerged  once 
more  and  climbed  to  higher  ground.  The  noon 
camp  was  a  hasty  affair,  for  the  Indian  seemed  in  a 
hurry.  He  scanned  the  horizon  far  and  wide  and 

309 


A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

seemed  searching  keenly  for  some  one  or  something. 
Once  they  met  a  lonely  Indian,  and  he  held  a  mut- 
tered conversation  with  him,  pointing  off  ahead 
and  gesticulating  angrily.  But  the  words  were  un- 
intelligible to  Margaret.  Her  feeling  of  uneasiness 
was  growing,  and  yet  she  could  not  for  the  life  of 
her  tell  why,  and  laid  it  down  to  her  tired  nerves. 
She  was  beginning  to  think  she  had  been  very  fool- 
ish to  start  on  such  a  long  trip  before  she  had  had 
a  chance  to  get  rested  from  her  last  days  of  school. 
She  longed  to  lie  down  under  a  tree  and  sleep  for 
days. 

Toward  night  they  sighted  a  great  blue  mesa 
about  fifty  miles  south,  and  at  sunset  they  could  just 
see  the  San  Francisco  peaks  more  than  a  hundred 
and  twenty-five  miles  away.  Margaret,  as  she 
stopped  her  horse  and  gazed,  felt  a  choking  hi  her 
heart  and  throat  and  a  great  desire  to  cry.  The 
glory  and  awe  of  the  mountains,  mingled  with  her 
own  weariness  and  nervous  fear,  were  almost  too 
much  for  her.  She  was  glad  to  get  down  and  eat  a 
little  supper  and  go  to  sleep  again.  As  she  fell 
asleep  she  comforted  herself  with  repeating  over  a 
few  precious  words  from  her  Bible: 

"The  angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth  round  about  them  that 
fear  Him  and  delivereth  them.  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect 
peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  Thee  because  he  trusteth  in 
Thee.  I  will  both  lay  me  down  in  peace  and  sleep,  for  Thou 
Lord  only  makest  me  to  dwell  in  safety.  ..." 

The  voice  of  the  coyotes,  now  far,  now  near, 
boomed  out  on  the  night;  great  stars  shot  dartling 
pathways  across  the  heavens;  the  fire  snapped  and 
crackled,  died  down  and  flickered  feebly;  but  Mar- 

310 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

garet  slept,  tired  out,  and  dreamed  the  angels  kept 
close  vigil  around  her  lowly  couch. 

She  did  not  know  what  tune  the  stars  disappeared 
and  the  rain  began  to  fall.  She  was  too  tired  to 
notice  the  drops  that  fell  upon  her  face.  Too  tired 
to  hear  the  coyotes  coming  nearer,  nearer,  yet  in 
the  morning  there  lay  one  dead,  stretched  not 
thirty  feet  from  where  she  lay.  The  Indian  had  shot 
him  through  the  heart. 

Somehow  things  looked  very  dismal  that  morning, 
in  spite  of  the  brightness  of  the  sun  after  the  rain. 
She  was  stiff  and  sore  with  lying  in  the  dampness. 
Her  hair  was  wet,  her  blanket  was  wet,  and  she  woke 
without  feeling  rested.  Almost  the  trip  seemed 
more  than  she  could  bear.  If  she  could  have  wished 
herself  back  that  morning  and  have  stayed  at  Tan- 
ners' all  summer  she  certainly  would  have  done  it 
rather  than  to  be  where  and  how  she  was. 

The  Indians  seemed  excited — the  man  grim  and 
forbidding,  the  woman  appealing,  frightened,  anx- 
ious. They  were  near  to  Keams  Canon.  "Ane- 
shodi"  would  be  somewhere  about.  The  Indian 
hoped  to  be  rid  of  his  burden  then  and  travel  on  his  < 
interrupted  journey.  He  was  growing  impatient. 
He  felt  he  had  earned  his  money. 

But  when  they  tried  to  go  down  Keam's  Canon 
they  found  the  road  all  washed  away  by  flood,  and 
must  needs  go  a  long  way  around.  This  made  the 
Indian  surly.  His  countenance  was  more  forbidding 
than  ever.  Margaret,  as  she  watched  him  with 
sinking  heart,  altered  her  ideas  of  the  Indian  as  a 
whole  to  suit  the  situation.  She  had  always  felt 
pity  for  the  poor  Indian,  whose  land  had  been  seized 

311 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

| 

and  whose  kindred  had  been  slaughtered.  But  this 
Indian  was  not  an  object  of  pity.  He  was  the  most 
disagreeable,  cruel-looking  Indian  Margaret  had 
ever  laid  eyes  on.  She  had  felt  it  innately  the  first 
tune  she  saw  him,  but  now,  as  the  situation  began 
to  bring  him  out,  she  knew  that  she  was  dreadfully 
afraid  of  him.  She  had  a  feeling  that  he  might 
scalp  her  if  he  got  tired  of  her.  She  began  to  alter 
her  opinion  of  Hazel  Brownleigh's  judgment  as  re- 
garded Indians.  She  did  not  feel  that  she  would 
ever  send  this  Indian  to  any  one  for  a  guide  and  say 
he  was  perfectly  trustworthy.  He  hadn't  done  any- 
thing very  dreadful  yet,  but  she  felt  he  was  going  to. 

He  had  a  number  of  angry  confabs  with  his  wife 
that  morning.  At  least,  he  did  the  confabbing  and 
the  squaw  protested.  Margaret  gathered  after  a 
while  that  it  was  something  about  herself.  The 
furtive,  frightened  glances  that  the  squaw  cast  in 
her  direction  sometimes,  when  the  man  was  not 
looking,  made  her  think  so.  She  tried  to  say  it  was 
all  imagination,  and  that  her  nerves  were  getting 
the  upper  hand  of  her,  but  in  spite  of  her  she  shud- 
dered sometimes,  just  as  she  had  done  when  Rosa 
looked  at  her.  She  decided  that  she  must  be  going 
to  have  a  fit  of  sickness,  and  that  just  as  soon  as 
she  got  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mrs.  Tanner's  again 
she  would  pack  her  trunk  and  go  home  to  her  mother. 
If  she  was  going  to  be  sick  she  wanted  her  mother. 

About  noon  things  came  to  a  climax.  They  halted 
on  the  top  of  the  mesa,  and  the  Indians  had  another 
altercation,  which  ended  in  the  man  descending  the 
trail  a  fearfully  steep  way,  down  four  hundred  feet 

to  the  trading-post  in  the  canon.    Margaret  looked 

312 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

down  and  gasped  and  thanked  a  kind  Providence 
that  had  not  made  it  necessary  for  her  to  make  that 
descent;  but  the  squaw  stood  at  the  top  with  her 
baby  and  looked  down  hi  silent  sorrow — agony 
perhaps  would  be  a  better  name.  Her  face  was  ter- 
rible to  look  upon. 

Margaret  could  not  understand  it,  and  she  went 
to  the  woman  and  put  her  hand  out  sympathetically, 
asking,  gently:  " What  is  the  matter,  you  poor  little 
thing?  Oh,  what  is  it?" 

Perhaps  the  woman  understood  the  tenderness  in 
the  tone,  for  she  suddenly  turned  and  rested  her  fore- 
head against  Margaret's  shoulder,  giving  one  great, 
gasping  sob,  then  lifted  her  dry,  miserable  eyes  to 
the  girl's  face  as  if  to  thank  her  for  her  kindness. 

Margaret's  heart  was  touched.  She  threw  her 
arms  around  the  poor  woman  and  drew  her,  papoose 
and  all,  comfortingly  toward  her,  patting  her  shoulder 
and  saying  gentle,  soothing  words  as  she  would  to 
a  little  child.  And  by  and  by  the  woman  lifted  her 
head  again,  the  tears  coursing  down  her  face,  and 
tried  to  explain,  muttering  her  queer  gutturals  and 
making  eloquent  gestures  until  Margaret  felt  she 
understood.  She  gathered  that  the  man  had  gone 
down  to  the  trading-post  to  find  the  "Aneshodi," 
and  that  the  squaw  feared  that  he  would  somehow 
procure  firewater  either  from  the  trader  or  from 
some  Indian  he  might  meet,  and  would  come  back 
angrier  than  he  had  gone,  and  without  his  money. 

If  Margaret  also  suspected  that  the  Indian  had 
desired  to  get  rid  of  her  by  leaving  her  at  that  deso- 
late little  trading-station  down  in  the  canon  until 

such  tune  as  her  friends  should  call  for  her,  she  reso- 

313 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

lutely  put  the  thought  out  of  her  mind  and  set  her- 
self to  cheer  the  poor  Indian  woman. 

She  took  a  bright,  soft,  rosy  silk  tie  from  her  own 
neck  and  knotted  it  about  the  astonished  woman's 
dusky  throat,  and  then  she  put  a  silver  dollar  in 
her  hand,  and  was  thrilled  with  wonder  to  see  what 
a  change  came  over  the  poor,  dark  face.  It  reminded 
her  of  Mom  Wallis  when  she  got  on  her  new  bonnet, 
and  once  again  she  felt  the  thrill  of  knowing  the 
whole  world  kin. 

The  squaw  cheered  up  after  a  little,  got  sticks  and 
made  a  fire,  and  together  they  had  quite  a  pleasant 
meal.  Margaret  exerted  herself  to  make  the  poor 
woman  laugh,  and  finally  succeeded  by  dangling 
a  bright-red  knight  from  her  chessmen  in  front  of 
the  delighted  baby's  eyes  till  he  gurgled  out  a  real 
baby  crow  of  joy. 

It  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  before  the 
Indian  returned,  sitting  crazily  his  struggling  beast 
as  he  climbed  the  trail  once  more.  Margaret, 
watching,  caught  her  breath  and  prayed.  Was  this 
the  trustworthy  man,  this  drunken,  reeling  creature, 
clubbing  his  horse  and  pouring  forth  a  torrent  of 
indistinguishable  gutturals?  It  was  evident  that 
his  wife's  worst  fears  were  verified.  He  had  found 
the  firewater. 

The  frightened  squaw  set  to  work  putting  things 
together  as  fast  as  she  could.  She  well  knew  what 
to  expect,  and  when  the  man  reached  the  top  of  the 
mesa  he  found  his  party  packed  and  mounted, 
waiting  fearsomely  to  take  the  trail. 

Silently,  timorously,  they  rode  behind  him,  west 
across  the  great  wide  plain. 

314 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

In  the  distance  gradually  there  appeared  dim 
inesas  like  great  fingers  stretching  out  against  the 
sky;  miles  away  they  seemed,  and  nothing  inter- 
vening but  a  stretch  of  varying  color  where  sage- 
brush melted  into  sand,  and  sage-brush  and  grease- 
wood  grew  again,  with  tall  cactus  startling  here  and 
there  like  bayonets  at  rest  but  bristling  with  menace. 

The  Indian  had  grown  silent  and  sullen.  His  eyes 
were  like  deep  fires  of  burning  volcanoes.  One 
shrank  from  looking  at  them.  His  massive,  cruel 
profile  stood  out  like  bronze  against  the  evening 
sky.  It  was  growing  night  again,  and  still  they  had 
not  come  to  anywhere  or  anything,  and  still  her 
friends  seemed  just  as  far  away. 

Since  they  had  left  the  top  of  Keams  Canon  Mar- 
garet had  been  sure  all  was  not  right.  Aside  from 
the  fact  that  the  guide  was  drunk  at  present,  she 
was  convinced  that  there  had  been  something  wrong 
with  him  all  along.  He  did  not  act  like  the  Indians 
around  Ashland.  He  did  not  act  like  a  trusted 
guide  that  her  friends  would  send  for  her.  She 
wished  once  more  that  she  had  kept  Hazel  Brown- 
leigh's  letter.  She  wondered  how  her  friends  would 
find  her  if  they  came  after  her.  It  was  then  she 
began  in  earnest  to  systematically  plan  to  leave  a 
trail  behind  her  all  the  rest  of  the  way.  If  she  had 
only  done  it  thoroughly  when  she  first  began  to  be 
uneasy.  But  now  she  was  so  far  away,  so  many  miles 
from  anywhere!  Oh,  if  she  had  not  come  at  all! 

And  first  she  dropped  her  handkerchief,  because 
she  happened  to  have  it  in  her  hand — a  dainty  thing 
with  lace  on  the  edge  and  her  name  written  in  tiny 
script  by  her  mother's  careful  hand  on  the  narrow 

315 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

hem.  And  then  after  a  little,  as  soon  as  she  could 
scrawl  it  without  being  noticed,  she  wrote  a  note 
which  she  twisted  around  the  neck  of  a  red  chess- 
man, and  left  behind  her.  After  that  scraps  of 
paper,  as  she  could  reach  them  out  of  the  bag  tied 
on  behind  her  saddle;  then  a  stocking,  a  bedroom 
slipper,  more  chessmen,  and  so,  when  they  halted 
at  dusk  and  prepared  to  strike  camp,  she  had  quite 
a  good  little  trail  blazed  behind  her  over  that  wide, 
empty  plain.  She  shuddered  as  she  looked  into  the 
gathering  darkness  ahead,  where  those  long,  dark 
lines  of  mesas  looked  like  barriers  in  the  way.  Then, 
suddenly,  the  Indian  pointed  ahead  to  the  first 
mesa  and  uttered  one  word — "  Walpi!"  So  that  was 
the  Indian  village  to  which  she  was  bound?  What 
was  before  her  on  the  morrow?  After  eating  a  pre- 
tense of  supper  she  lay  down.  The  Indian  had  more 
firewater  with  him.  He  drank,  he  uttered  cruel 
gutturals  at  his  squaw,  and  even  kicked  the  feet  of 
the  sleeping  papoose  as  he  passed  by  till  it  awoke 
and  cried  sharply,  which  made  him  more  angry,  so 
he  struck  the  squaw. 

It  seemed  hours  before  all  was  quiet.  Margaret's 
nerves  were  strained  to  such  a  pitch  she  scarcely 
dared  to  breathe,  but  at  last,  when  the  fire  had  al- 
most died  down,  the  man  lay  quiet,  and  she  could 
relax  and  close  her  eyes. 

Not  to  sleep.  She  must  not  go  to  sleep.  The  fire 
was  almost  gone  and  the  coyotes  would  be  around. 
She  must  wake  and  watch! 

That  was  the  last  thought  she  remembered — that 
and  a  prayer  that  the  angels  would  keep  watch  once 

again. 

316 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

When  she  awoke  it  was  broad  daylight  and  far 
into  the  morning,  for  the  sun  was  high  overhead 
and  the  mesas  in  the  distance  were  clear  and  distinct 
against  the  sky. 

She  sat  up  and  looked  about  her,  bewildered, 
not  knowing  at  first  where  she  was.  It  was  so  still 
and  wide  and  lonely. 

She  turned  to  find  the  Indians,  but  there  was  no 
trace  of  them  anywhere.  The  fire  lay  smoldering 
in  its  place,  a  thin  trickle  of  smoke  curling  away 
from  a  dying  stick,  but  that  was  all.  A  tin  cup  half 
full  of  coffee  was  beside  the  stick,  and  a  piece  of 
blackened  corn  bread.  She  turned  frightened  eyes 
to  east,  to  west,  to  north,  to  south,  but  there  was 
no  one  in  sight,  and  out  over  the  distant  mesa 
there  poised  a  great  eagle  alone  in  the  vast  sky 
keeping  watch  over  the  brilliant,  silent  waste. 

21 


CHAPTER  XXX 

WHEN  Margaret  was  a  very  little  girl  her 
father  and  mother  had  left  her  alone  for  an 
•hour  with  a  stranger  while  they  went  out  to  make  a 
call  in  a  strange  city  through  which  they  were  pass- 
ing on  a  summer  trip.  The  stranger  was  kind,  and 
gave  to  the  child  a  large  green  box  of  bits  of  old  black 
lace  and  purple  ribbons  to  play  with,  but  she  turned 
sorrowfully  from  the  somber  array  of  finery,  which 
was  the  only  thing  in  the  way  of  a  plaything  the 
woman  had  at  hand,  and  stood  looking  drearily  out 
of  the  window  on  the  strange,  new  town,  a  feeling 
•of  utter  loneliness  upon  her.  Her  little  heart  was 
.almost  choked  with  the  awfulness  of  the  thought 
that  she  was  a  human  atom  drifted  apart  from  every 
other  atom  she  had  ever  known,  that  she  had  a  per- 
sonality and  a  responsibility  of  her  own,  and  that 
she  must  face  this  thought  of  herself  and  her  alone- 
ness  for  evermore.  It  was  the  child's  first  realiza- 
tion that  she  was  a  separate  being  apart  from  her 
father  and  mother,  and  she  was  almost  consumed 
with  the  terror  of  it. 

As  she  rose  now  from  her  bed  on  the  ground  and 
looked  out  across  that  vast  waste,  in  which  the 
only  other  living  creature  was  that  sinister,  watching 
Beagle,  the  same  feeling  returned  to  her  and  made 

318 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

her  tremble  like  the  little  child  who  had  turned 
from  her  box  of  ancient  finery  to  realize  her  own 
little  self  and  its  terrible  aloneness. 

For  an  instant  even  her  realization  of  God,  which 
had  from  early  childhood  been  present  with  her, 
seemed  to  have  departed.  She  could  not  grasp  any- 
thing save  the  vast  empty  silence  that  loomed  about 
her  so  awfully.  She  was  alone,  and  about  as  far 
from  anywhere  or  anything  as  she  could  possibly 
be  hi  the  State  of  Arizona.  Would  she  ever  get 
back  to  human  habitations?  Would  her  friends 
ever  be  able  to  find  her? 

Then  her  heart  flew  back  to  its  habitual  refuge, 
and  she  spoke  aloud  and  said,  "God  is  here!"  and 
the  thought  seemed  to  comfort  her.  She  looked 
about  once  more  on  the  bright  waste,  and  now  it 
did  not  seem  so  dreary. 

"God  is  here!"  she  repeated,  and  tried  to  realize 
that  this  was  a  part  of  His  habitation.  She  could 
not  be  lost  where  God  was.  He  knew  the  way  out. 
She  had  only  to  trust.  So  she  dropped  upon  her 
knees  hi  the  sand  and  prayed  for  trust  and  courage. 

When  she  rose  again  she  walked  steadily  to  a 
height  a  little  above  the  camp-fire,  and,  shading  her 
eyes,  looked  carefully  in  every  direction.  No,  there 
was  not  a  sign  of  her  recent  companions.  They 
must  have  stolen  away  in  the  night  quite  soon  after 
she  fell  asleep,  and  have  gone  fast  and  far,  so  that 
they  were  now  beyond  the  reach  of  her  eyes,  and  not 
anywhere  was  there  sign  of  living  thing,  save  that 
eagle  still  sweeping  in  great  curves  and  poising  again 
above  the  distant  mesa. 

Where  was  her  horse?    Had  the  Indians  taken 

319 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

that,  too?  She  searched  the  valley,  but  saw  no 
horse  at  first.  With  sinking  heart  she  went  back 
to  where  her  things  were  and  sat  down  by  the  dying 
fire  to  think,  putting  a  few  loose  twigs  and  sticks 
together  to  keep  the  embers  bright  while  she  could. 
She  reflected  that  she  had  no  matches,  and  this  was 
probably  the  last  fire  she  would  have  until  some- 
body came  to  her  rescue  or  she  got  somewhere  by 
herself.  What  was  she  to  do?  Stay  right  where 
she  was  or  start  out  on  foot?  And  should  she  go 
backward  or  forward?  Surely,  surely  the  Brown- 
leighs  would  miss  her  pretty  soon  and  send  out  a 
search-party  for  her.  How  could  it  be  that  they 
trusted  an  Indian  who  had  done  such  a  cruel  thing 
as  to  leave  a  woman  unprotected  in  the  desert? 
And  yet,  perhaps,  they  did  not  know  his  temptation 
to  drink.  Perhaps  they  had  thought  he  could  not 
get  any  firewater.  Perhaps  he  would  return  when 
he  came  to  himself  and  realized  what  he  had  done. 
And  now  she  noticed  what  she  had  not  seen  at 
first — a  small  bottle  of  water  on  a  stone  beside  the 
blackened  bread.  Realizing  that  she  was  very 
hungry  and  that  this  was  the  only  food  at  hand, 
she  sat  down  beside  the  fire  to  eat  the  dry  bread  and 
drink  the  miserable  coffee.  She  must  have  strength 
to  do  whatever  was  before  her.  She  tried  not  to 
think  how  her  mother  would  feel  if  she  never  came 
back,  how  anxious  they  would  be  as  they  waited 
day  by  day  for  her  letters  that  did  not  come.  She 
reflected  with  a  sinking  heart  that  she  had,  just 
before  leaving,  written  a  hasty  note  to  her  mother 
telling  her  not  to  expect  anything  for  several  days, 
perhaps  even  as  much  as  two  weeks,  as  she  was 

320 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

going  out  of  civilization  for  a  little  while.  How  had 
she  unwittingly  sealed  her  fate  by  that!  For  now 
not  even  by  way  of  her  alarmed  home  could  help 
come  to  her. 

She  put  the  last  bit  of  hard  corn  bread  in  her 
pocket  for  a  further  time  of  need,  and  began  to  look 
about  her  again.  Then  she  spied  with  delight  a 
moving  object  far  below  her  in  the  valley,  and  de- 
cided it  was  a  horse,  perhaps  her  own.  He  was  a 
mile  away,  at  least,  but  he  was  there,  and  she  cried 
out  with  sudden  joy  and  relief. 

She  went  over  to  her  blanket  and  bags,  which  had 
been  beside  her  during  the  night,  and  stood  a  mo- 
ment trying  to  think  what  to  do.  Should  she  carry 
the  things  to  the  horse  or  risk  leaving  them  here 
while  she  went  after  the  horse  and  brought  him  to 
the  things?  No,  that  would  not  be  safe.  Some 
one  might  come  along  and  take  them,  or  she  might 
not  be  able  to  find  her  way  back  again  in  this  strange, 
wild  waste.  Besides,  she  might  not  get  the  horse, 
after  all,  and  would  lose  everything.  She  must  carry 
her  things  to  the  horse.  She  stooped  to  gather 
them  up,  and  something  bright  beside  her  bag  at- 
tracted her.  It  was  the  sun  shining  on  the  silver 
dollar  she  had  given  to  the  Indian  woman.  A  sud- 
den rush  of  tears  came  to  her  eyes.  The  poor  creat- 
ure had  tried  to  make  all  the  reparation  she  could 
for  thus  hastily  leaving  the  white  woman  in  the 
desert.  She  had  given  back  the  money — all  she  had 
that  was  valuable!  Beside  the  dollar  rippled  a  little 
chain  of  beads  curiously  wrought,  an  inanimate  ap- 
peal for  forgiveness  and  a  grateful  return  for  the 
kindness  shown  her.  Margaret  smiled  as  she  stooped 

321 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

again  to  pick  up  her  things.  There  had  been  a 
heart,  after  all,  behind  that  stolid  countenance,  and 
some  sense  of  righteousness  and  justice.  Margaret 
decided  that  Indians  were  not  all  treacherous.  Poor 
woman!  What  a  life  was  hers — to  follow  her  grim 
lord  whither  he  would  lead,  even  as  her  white  sister 
must  sometimes,  sorrowing,  rebelling,  crying  out, 
but  following!  She  wondered  if  into  the  heart  of 
this  dark  sister  there  ever  crept  any  of  the  rebellion 
which  led  some  of  her  white  sisters  to  cry  aloud  for 
"rights"  and  " emancipation." 

But  it  was  all  a  passing  thought  to  be  remembered 
and  turned  over  at  a  more  propitious  time.  Mar- 
garet's whole  thoughts  now  were  bent  on  her  present 
predicament. 

The  packing  was  short  work.  She  stuffed  every- 
thing into  the  two  bags  that  were  usually  hung  across 
the  horse,  and  settled  them  carefully  across  her 
shoulders.  Then  she  rolled  the  blanket,  took  it  in  her 
arms,  and  started.  It  was  a  heavy  burden  to  carry, 
but  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  part  with  any 
of  her  things  until  she  had  at  least  made  an  effort  to 
save  them.  If  she  should  be  left  alone  in  the  desert 
for  the  night  the  blanket  was  indispensable,  and 
her  clothes  would  at  least  do  to  drop  as  a  trail  by 
which  her  friends  might  find  her.  She  must  carry 
them  as  far  as  possible.  So  she  started. 

It  was  already  high  day,  and  the  sun  was  intoler- 
ably hot.  Her  heavy  burden  was  not  only  cumber- 
some, but  very  warm,  and  she  felt  her  strength  going 
from  her  as  she  went;  but  her  nerve  was  up  and  her 
courage  was  strong.  Moreover,  she  prayed  as  she 
walked,  and  she  felt  now  the  presence  of  her  Guide 

322 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

and  was  not  afraid.  As  she  walked  she  faced  a  num- 
ber of  possibilities  in  the  immediate  future  which 
were  startling,  and  to  say  the  least,  undesirable. 
There  were  wild  animals  in  this  land,  not  so  much 
hi  the  daylight,  but  what  of  the  night?  She  had 
heard  that  a  woman  was  always  safe  in  that  wild 
Western  land;  but  what  of  the  prowling  Indians? 
What  of  a  possible  exception  to  the  Western  rule  of 
chivalry  toward  a  decent  woman?  One  small  piece 
of  corn  bread  and  less  than  a  pint  of  water  were 
small  provision  on  which  to  withstand  a  siege.  How 
far  was  it  to  anywhere? 

It  was  then  she  remembered  for  the  first  time  that 
one  word — "Walpi!"  uttered  by  the  Indian  as  he 
came  to  a  halt  the  night  before  and  pointed  far  to 
the  mesa — "Walpi."  She  lifted  her  eyes  now  and 
scanned  the  dark  mesa.  It  loomed  like  a  great 
battlement  of  rock  against  the  sky.  Could  it  be 
possible  there  were  people  dwelling  there?  She  had 
heard,  of  course,  about  the  curious  Hopi  villages, 
each  village  a  gigantic  house  of  many  rooms,  called 
pueblos,  built  upon  the  lofty  crags,  sometimes  five 
or  six  hundred  feet  above  the  desert. 

Could  it  be  that  that  great  castle-looking  outline 
against  the  sky  before  her,  standing  out  on  the  end 
of  the  mesa  like  a  promontory  above  the  sea,  was 
Walpi?  And  if  it  was,  how  was  she  to  get  up  there? 
The  rock  rose  sheer  and  steep  from  the  desert  floor. 
The  narrow  neck  of  land  behind  it  looked  like  a 
slender  thread.  Her  heart  sank  at  thought  of  try- 
ing to  storm  and  enter,  single-handed,  such  an  im- 
pregnable fortress.  And  yet,  if  her  friends  were 
there,  perhaps  they  would  see  her  when  she  drew 

323 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

near  and  come  to  show  her  the  way.  Strange  that 
they  should  have  gone  on  and  left  her  with  those 
treacherous  Indians!  Strange  that  they  should  have 
trusted  them  so,  in  the  first  place !  Her  own  instincts 
had  been  against  trusting  the  man  from  the  begin- 
ning. It  must  be  confessed  that  during  her  reflec- 
tions at  this  point  her  opinion  of  the  wisdom  and 
judgment  of  the  Brownleighs  was  lowered  several 
notches.  Then  she  began  to  berate  herself  for  hav- 
ing so  easily  been  satisfied  about  her  escort.  She 
should  have  read  the  letter  more  carefully.  She 
should  have  asked  the  Indians  more  questions.  She 
should,  perhaps,  have  asked  Jasper  Kemp's  advice, 
or  got  him  to  talk  to  the  Indian.  She  wished  with 
all  her  heart  for  Bud,  now.  If  Bud  were  along  he 
would  be  saying  some  comical  boy-thing,  and  be 
finding  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  Dear,  faithful 
Bud! 

The  sun  rose  higher  and  the  morning  grew  hotter. 
As  she  descended  to  the  valley  her  burdens  grew 
intolerable,  and  several  times  she  almost  cast  them 
aside.  Once  she  lost  sight  of  her  pony  among  the 
sage-brush,  and  it  was  two  hours  before  she  came  to 
him  and  was  able  to  capture  him  and  strap  on  her 
burdens.  She  was  almost  too  exhausted  to  climb 
into  the  saddle  when  all  was  ready;  but  she  managed 
to  mount  at  last  and  started  out  toward  the  rugged 
crag  ahead  of  her. 

The  pony  had  a  long,  hot  climb  out  of  the  valley 
to  a  hill  where  she  could  see  very  far  again,  but 
still  that  vast  emptiness  reigned.  Even  the  eagle 
had  disappeared,  and  she  fancied  he  must  be  resting 
like  a  great  emblem  of  freedom  on  one  of  the  points 

324 


A   VOICE   IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

of  the  castle-like  battlement  against  the  sky.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  end  of  the  world  had  come,  and  she 
was  the  only  one  left  in  the  universe,  forgotten, 
riding  on  her  weary  horse  across  an  endless  desert  hi 
search  of  a  home  she  would  never  see  again. 

Below  the  hill  there  stretched  a  wide,  white  strip 
of  sand,  perhaps  two  miles  in  extent,  but  shimmering 
in  the  sun  and  seeming  to  recede  ahead  of  her  as  she 
advanced.  Beyond  was  soft  greenness — something 
growing — not  near  enough  to  be  discerned  as  corn- 
fields. The  girl  drooped  her  tired  head  upon  her 
horse's  mane  and  wept,  her  courage  going  from  her 
with  her  tears.  In  all  that  wide  universe  there 
seemed  no  way  to  go,  and  she  was  so  very  tired,  hun- 
gry, hot,  and  discouraged !  There  was  always  that  bit 
of  bread  in  her  pocket  and  that  muddy-looking,  warm 
water  for  a  last  resort;  but  she  must  save  them  as 
long  as  possible,  for  there  was  no  telling  how  long  it 
would  be  before  she  had  more. 

There  was  no  trail  now  to  follow.  She  had  started 
from  the  spot  where  she  had  found  the  horse,  and 
her  inexperienced  eyes  could  not  have  searched  out 
a  trail  if  she  had  tried.  She  was  going  toward  that 
distant  castle  on  the  crag  as  to  a  goal,  but  when  she 
reached  it,  if  she  ever  did,  would  she  find  anything 
there  but  crags  and  lonesomeness  and  the  eagle? 

Drying  her  tears  at  last,  she  started  the  horse  on 
down  the  hill,  and  perhaps  her  tears  blinded  her,  or 
because  she  was  dizzy  with  hunger  and  the  long 
stretch  of  anxiety  and  fatigue  she  was  not  look- 
ing closely.  There  was  a  steep  place,  a  sharp 
falling  away  of  the  ground  unexpectedly  as  they 
emerged  from  a  thicket  of  sage-brush,  and  the  horse 

325 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

plunged  several  feet  down,  striking  sharply  on  some 
loose  rocks,  and  slipping  to  his  knees;  snorting, 
scrambling,  making  brave  effort,  but  slipping,  half 
rolling,  at  last  he  was  brought  down  with  his  fright- 
ened rider,  and  lay  upon  his  side  with  her  foot  under 
him  and  a  sensation  like  a  red-hot  knife  running 
through  her  ankle. 

Margaret  caught  her  breath  in  quick  gasps  as  they 
fell,  lifting  a  prayer  in  her  heart  for  help.  Then 
came  the  crash  and  the  sharp  pain,  and  with  a  quick 
conviction  that  all  was  over  she  dropped  back  un- 
conscious on  the  sand,  a  blessed  oblivion  of  dark- 
ness rushing  over  her. 

When  she  came  to  herself  once  more  the  hot  sun 
was  pouring  down  upon  her  unprotected  face,  and 
she  was  conscious  of  intense  pain  and  suffering  in 
every  part  of  her  body.  She  opened  her  eyes  wildly 
and  looked  around.  There  was  sage-brush  up 
above,  waving  over  the  crag  down  which  they  had 
fallen,  its  gray-greenness  shimmering  hotly  in  the 
sun;  the  sky  was  mercilessly  blue  without  a  cloud. 
The  great  beast,  heavy  and  quivering,  lay  solidly 
against  her,  half  pinning  her  to  earth,  and  the  help- 
lessness of  her  position  was  like  an  awful  nightmare 
from  which  she  felt  she  might  waken  if  she  could 
only  cry  out.  But  when  at  last  she  raised  her  voice 
its  empty  echo  frightened  her,  and  there,  above  her, 
with  wide-spread  wings,  circling  for  an  instant,  then 
poised  in  motionless  survey  of  her,  with  cruel  eyes 
upon  her,  loomed  that  eagle — so  large,  so  fearful,  so 
suggestive  in  its  curious  stare,  the  monarch  of  the 
desert  come  to  see  who  had  invaded  his  precincts 
and  fallen  into  one  of  his  snares. 

326 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

With  sudden  frenzy  burning  in  her  veins  Mar- 
garet struggled  and  tried  to  get  free,  but  she  could 
only  move  the  slightest  bit  each  time,  and  every 
motion  was  an  agony  to  the  hurt  ankle. 

It  seemed  hours  before  she  writhed  herself  free 
from  that  great,  motionless  horse,  whose  labored 
breath  only  showed  that  he  was  still  alive.  Some- 
thing terrible  must  have  happened  to  the  horse  or 
he  would  have  tried  to  rise,  for  she  had  coaxed, 
patted,  cajoled,  tried  in  every  way  to  rouse  him. 
When  at  last  she  crawled  free  from  the  hot,  horrible 
body  and  crept  with  pained  progress  around  in  front 
of  him,  she  saw  that  both  his  forelegs  lay  limp  and 
helpless.  He  must  have  broken  them  in  falling. 
Poor  fellow!  He,  too,  was  suffering  and  she  had 
nothing  to  give  him!  There  was  nothing  she  could 
do  for  him! 

Then  she  thought  of  the  bottle  of  water,  but,  search- 
ing for  it,  found  that  her  good  intention  of  dividing 
it  with  him  was  useless,  for  the  bottle  was  broken 
and  the  water  already  soaked  into  the  sand.  Only 
a  damp  spot  on  the  saddle-bag  showed  where  it  had 
departed. 

Then  indeed  did  Margaret  sink  down  in  the  sand 
in  despair  and  begin  to  pray  as  she  had  never  prayed 
before. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

morning  after  Margaret's  departure  Rosa 
awoke  with  no  feelings  of  self-reproach,  but 
rather  a  great  exultation  at  the  way  in  which  she 
had  been  able  to  get  rid  of  her  rival. 

She  lay  for  a  few  minutes  thinking  of  Forsythe, 
and  trying  to  decide  what  she  would  wear  when  she 
went  forth  to  meet  him,  for  she  wanted  to  charm 
him  as  she  had  never  charmed  any  one  before. 

She  spent  some  tune  arraying  herself  in  different 
costumes,  but  at  last  decided  on  her  Commencement 
gown  of  fine  white  organdie,  hand-embroidered  and 
frilled  with  filmy  lace,  the  product  of  a  famous  house 
of  gowns  in  the  Eastern  city  where  she  had  attended 
school  for  a  while  and  acquired  expensive  tastes. 

Daintily  slippered,  beribboned  with  coral-silk 
girdle,  and  with  a  rose  from  the  vine  over  her  win- 
dow in  her  hair,  she  sallied  forth  at  last  to  the 
trysting-place. 

Forsythe  was  a  whole  hour  late,  as  became  a 
languid  gentleman  who  had  traveled  the  day  before 
and  idled  at  his  sister's  house  over  a  late  breakfast 
until  nearly  noon.  Already  his  fluttering  fancy  was 
apathetic  about  Rosa,  and  he  wondered,  as  he  rode 
along,  what  had  become  of  the  interesting  young 
teacher  who  had  charmed  him  for  more  than  a  pass- 

328 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

ing  moment.  Would  he  dare  to  call  upon  her,  now 
that  Gardley  was  out  of  the  way?  Was  she  still  in 
Ashland  or  had  she  gone  home  for  vacation?  He 
must  ask  Rosa  about  her. 

Then  he  came  in  sight  of  Rosa  sitting  pictu- 
resquely in  the  shade  of  an  old  cedar,  reading  poetry, 
a  little  lady  hi  the  wilderness,  and  he  forgot  every- 
thing else  in  his  delight  over  the  change  in  her. 
For  Rosa  had  changed.  There  was  no  mistake  about 
it.  She  had  bloomed  out  into  maturity  in  those 
few  short  months  of  his  absence.  Her  soft  figure 
had  rounded  and  developed,  her  bewitching  curls 
were  put  up  on  her  head,  with  only  a  stray  tendril 
here  and  there  to  emphasize  a  dainty  ear  or  call 
attention  to  a  smooth,  round  neck;  and  when  she 
raised  her  lovely  head  and  lifted  limpid  eyes  to  his 
there  was  about  her  a  demureness,  a  coolness  and 
charm  that  he  had  fancied  only  ladies  of  the  city 
could  attain.  Oh,  Rosa  knew  her  charms,  and 
had  practised  many  a  day  before  her  mirror  till  she 
had  appraised  the  value  of  every  curving  eyelash, 
every  hidden  dimple,  every  cupid's  curve  of  lip. 
Rosa  had  watched  well  and  learned  from  all  with 
whom  she  had  come  in  contact.  No  woman's  guile 
was  left  untried  by  her. 

And  Rosa  was  very  sweet  and  charming.  She 
knew  just  when  to  lift  up  innocent  eyes  of  wonder; 
when  to  not  understand  suggestions;  when  to  ex- 
claim softly  with  delight  or  shrink  with  shyness 
that  nevertheless  did  not  repulse. 

Forsythe  studied  her  with  wonder  and  delight. 
No  maiden  of  the  city  had  ever  charmed  him  more, 
and  withal  she  seemed  so  innocent  and  young,  so 

329 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

altogether  pliable  in  his  hands.  His  pulses  beat 
high,  his  heart  was  inflamed,  and  passion  came  and 
sat  within  his  handsome  eyes. 

It  was  easy  to  persuade  her,  after  her  first  seem- 
ingly shy  reserve  was  overcome,  and  before  an  hour 
was  passed  she  had  promised  to  go  away  with  him. 
He  had  very  little  money,  but  what  of  that?  When 
he  spoke  of  that  feature  Rosa  declared  she  could 
easily  get  some.  Her  father  gave  her  free  access 
to  his  safe,  and  kept  her  plentifully  supplied  for  the 
household  use.  It  was  nothing  to  her — a  passing 
incident.  What  should  it  matter  whose  money  took 
them  on  their  way? 

When  she  went  demurely  back  to  the  ranch  a  little 
before  sunset  she  thought  she  was  very  happy,  poor 
little  silly  sinner!  She  met  her  father  with  her 
most  alluring  but  most  furtive  smile.  She  was 
charming  at  supper,  and  blushed  as  her  mother 
used  to  do  when  he  praised  her  new  gown  and  told 
her  how  well  she  looked  in  it.  But  she  professed  to 
be  weary  yet  from  the  last  days  of  school — to  have 
a  headache — and  so  she  went  early  to  her  room 
and  asked  that  the  servants  keep  the  house  quiet 
in  the  morning,  that  she  might  sleep  late  and  get 
really  rested.  Her  father  kissed  her  tenderly  and 
thought  what  a  dear  child  she  was  and  what  a  com- 
fort to  his  ripening  years;  and  the  house  settled 
down  into  quiet. 

Rosa  packed  a  bag  with  some  of  her  most  elabo- 
rate garments,  arrayed  herself  in  a  charming  little 
outfit  of  silk  for  the  journey,  dropped  her  baggage 
out  of  the  window;  and  w^hen  the  moon  rose  and  the 
household  were  quietly  sleeping  she  paid  a  visit  to 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

her  father's  safe,  and  then  stole  forth,  taking  her 
shadowy  way  to  the  trail  by  a  winding  route  known 
well  to  herself  and  secure  from  the  watch  of  vigi- 
lant servants  who  were  ever  on  the  lookout  for  cattle 
thieves. 

Thus  she  left  her  father's  house  and  went  forth 
to  put  her  trust  in  a  man  whose  promises  were  as 
ropes  of  sand  and  whose  fancy  was  like  a  wave  of 
the  sea,  tossed  to  and  fro  by  every  breath  that  blew. 
Long  ere  the  sun  rose  the  next  morning  the  guarded, 
beloved  child  was  as  far  from  her  safe  home  and  her 
father's  sheltering  love  as  if  alone  she  had  started 
for  the  mouth  of  the  bottomless  pit.  Two  days 
later,  while  Margaret  lay  unconscious  beneath  the 
sage-brush,  with  a  hovering  eagle  for  watch,  Rosa 
in  the  streets  of  a  great  city  suddenly  realized  that 
she  was  more  alone  in  the  universe  than  ever  she 
could  have  been  in  a  wide  desert,  and  her  plight  was 
far  worse  than  the  girl's  with  whose  fate  she  had  so 
lightly  played. 

Quite  early  on  the  morning  after  Rosa  left,  while 
the  household  was  still  keeping  quiet  for  the  supposed 
sleeper,  Gardley  rode  into  the  inclosure  about  the 
house  and  asked  for  Rogers. 

Gardley  had  been  traveling  night  and  day  to  get 
back.  Matters  had  suddenly  arranged  themselves 
so  that  he  could  finish  up  his  business  at  his  old 
home  and  go  on  to  see  Margaret's  father  and  mother, 
and  he  had  made  his  visit  there  and  hurried  back 
to  Arizona,  hoping  to  reach  Ashland  in  time  for  Com- 
mencement. A  delay  on  account  of  a  washout  on 
the  road  had  brought  him  back  two  days  late  for 
Commencement.  He  had  ridden  to  camp  from  a 

331 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

junction  forty  miles  away  to  get  there  the  sooner,  and 
this  morning  had  ridden  straight  to  the  Tanners'  to 
surprise  Margaret.  It  was,  therefore,  a  deep  dis- 
appointment to  find  her  gone  and  only  Mrs.  Tarater's 
voluble  explanations  for  comfort.  Mrs.  Tanner  ex- 
hausted her  vocabulary  in  trying  to  describe  the 
"Injuns,"  her  own  feeling  of  protest  against  them, 
and  Mrs.  Brownleigh's  foolishness  in  making  so 
much  of  them;  and  then  she  bustled  in  to  the  old 
pine  desk  in  the  dining-room  and  produced  the 
letter  that  had  started  Margaret  off  as  soon  as  com- 
mencement was  over. 

Gardley  took  the  letter  eagerly,  as  though  it  were 
something  to  connect  him  with  Margaret,  and  read 
it  through  carefully  to  make  sure  just  how  matters 
stood.  He  had  looked  troubled  when  Mrs.  Tanner 
told  how  tired  Margaret  was,  and  how  worried  she 
seemed  about  her  school  and  glad  to  get  away  from 
it  all;  and  he  agreed  that  the  trip  was  probably  a 
good  thing. 

"1  wish  Bud  could  have  gone  along,  though,"  he 
said,  thoughtfully,  as  he  turned  away  from  the  door. 
"I  don't  like  her  to  go  with  just  Indians,  though 
I  suppose  it  is  all  right.  You  say  he  had  his  wife 
and  child  along?  Of  course  Mrs.  Brownleigh 
wouldn't  send  anybody  that  wasn't  perfectly  all 
right.  Well,  I  suppose  the  trip  will  be  a  rest  for 
her.  I'm  sorry  I  didn't  get  home  a  few  days  sooner. 
I  might  have  looked  out  for  her  myself." 

He  rode  away  from  the  Tanners',  promising  to  re- 
turn later  with  a  gift  he  had  brought  for  Bud  that 
he  wanted  to  present  himself,  and  Mrs.  Tannei 
bustled  back  to  her  work  again. 

332 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

"Well,  I'm  glad  he's  got  home,  anyway,"  she  re- 
marked, aloud,  to  herself  as  she  hung  her  dish-cloth 
tidily  over  the  upturned  dish-pan  and  took  up  her 
broom.  "I  'ain't  felt  noways  easy  'bout  her  sence 
she  left,  though  I  do  suppose  there  ain't  any  sense 
to  it.  But  I'm  glad  he's  back!" 

Mean  tune  Gardley  was  riding  toward  Rogers' s 
ranch,  meditating  whether  he  should  venture  to  fol- 
low the  expedition  and  enjoy  at  least  the  return 
trip  with  Margaret,  or  whether  he  ought  to  remain 
patiently  until  she  came  back  and  go  to  work  at 
once.  There  was  nothing  really  important  de- 
manding his  attention  immediately,  for  Rogers  had 
arranged  to  keep  the  present  overseer  of  affairs 
until  he  was  ready  to  undertake  the  work.  He  was 
on  his  way  now  to  report  on  a  small  business  matter 
which  he  had  been  attending  to  hi  New  York  for 
Rogers.  When  that  was  over  he  would  be  free  to 
do  as  he  pleased  for  a  few  days  more  if  he  liked,  and 
the  temptation  was  great  to  go  at  once  to  Margaret. 

As  he  stood  waiting  beside  his  horse  in  front  of 
the  house  while  the  servant  went  to  call  Rogers,  he 
looked  about  with  delight  on  the  beauty  of  the  day. 
How  glad  he  was  to  be  back  in  Arizona  again!  Was 
it  the  charm  of  the  place  or  because  Margaret  was 
there,  he  wondered,  that  he  felt  so  happy?  By  all 
means  he  must  follow  her.  Why  should  he  not? 

He  looked  at  the  clambering  rose-vine  that  cov- 
ered one  end  of  the  house,  and  noticed  how  it  crept 
close  to  the  window  casement  and  caressed  the  white 
curtain  as  it  blew.  Margaret  must  have  such  a  vine 
at  her  window  in  the  house  he  would  build  for  her. 
It  might  be  but  a  modest  house  that  he  could  give 

22  333 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

her  now,  but  it  should  have  a  rose- vine  just  like  that; 
and  he  would  train  it  round  her  window  where  she 
could  smell  the  fragrance  from  it  every  morning 
when  she  awoke,  and  where  it  would  breathe  upon 
her  as  she  slept. 

Margaret!  How  impatient  he  was  to  see  her 
again!  To  look  upon  her  dear  face  and  know  that 
she  was  his!  That  her  father  and  mother  had  been 
satisfied  about  him  and  sent  their  blessing,  and  he 
might  tell  her  so.  It  was  wonderful!  His  heart 
thrilled  with  the  thought  of  it.  Of  course  he  would 
go  to  her  at  once.  He  would  start  as  soon  as 
Rogers  was  through  with  him.  He  would  go  to 
Ganado.  No,  Keams.  Which  was  it?  He  drew 
the  letter  out  of  his  pocket  and  read  it  again,  then 
replaced  it. 

The  fluttering  curtain  up  at  the  window  blew  out 
and  in,  and  when  it  blew  out  again  it  brought  with 
it  a  flurry  of  papers  like  white  leaves.  The  curtain 
had  knocked  over  a  paper-weight  or  vase  or  some- 
thing that  held  them  and  set  the  papers  free.  The 
breeze  caught  them  and  flung  them  about  erratical- 
,ly,  tossing  one  almost  at  his  feet.  He  stooped  to 
pick  it  up,  thinking  it  might  be  of  value  to  some  one, 
and  caught  the  name  "Margaret"  and  "Dear  Mar- 
garet" written  several  times  on  the  sheet,  with 
"Walpi,  Walpi,  Walpi,"  filling  the  lower  half  of  the 
page,  as  if  some  one  had  been  practising  it. 

And  because  these  two  words  were  just  now 
keenly  in  his  mind  he  reached  for  the  second  paper 
just  a  foot  or  two  away  and  found  more  sentences 
and  words.  A  third  paper  contained  an  exact  re- 
production of  the  letter  which  Mrs.  Tanner  had 

334 


A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

given  him  purporting  to  come  from  Mrs.  Brown- 
leigh  to  Margaret.  What  could  it  possibly  mean? 

In  great  astonishment  he  pulled  out  the  other 
letter  and  compared  them.  They  were  almost  iden- 
tical save  for  a  word  here  and  there  crossed  out  and 
rewritten.  He  stood  looking  mutely  at  the  papers 
and  then  up  at  the  window,  as  though  an  explana- 
tion might  somehow  be  wafted  down  to  him,  not 
knowing  what  to  think,  his  mind  filled  with  vague 
alarm. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  servant  appeared. 

"Mr.  Rogers  says  would  you  mind  coming  down 
to  the  corral.  Miss  Rosa  has  a  headache,  and  we're 
keeping  the  house  still  for  her  to  sleep.  That's  her 
window  up  there — "  And  he  indicated  the  rose- 
bowered  window  with  the  fluttering  curtain. 

Dazed  and  half  suspicious  of  something,  Gardley 
folded  the  two  letters  together  and  crushed  them 
into  his  pocket,  wondering  what  he  ought  to  do 
about  it.  The  thought  of  it  troubled  him  so  that 
he  only  hah7  gave  attention  to  the  business  in  hand; 
but  he  gave  his  report  and  handed  over  certain 
documents.  He  was  thinking  that  perhaps  he  ought 
to  see  Miss  Rosa  and  find  out  what  she  knew  of 
Margaret's  going  and  ask  how  she  came  in  possession 
of  this  other  letter. 

"Now,"  said  Rogers,  as  the  matter  was  concluded, 
"I  owe  you  some  money.  If  you'll  just  step  up  to 
the  house  with  me  I'll  give  it  to  you.  I'd  like  to  settle 
matters  up  at  once." 

"Oh,  let  it  go  till  I  come  again,"  said  Gardley, 
impatient  to  be  off.  He  wanted  to  get  by  himself 
and  think  out  a  solution  of  the  two  letters.  He  was 

335 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

more  than  uneasy  about  Margaret  without  being 
able  to  give  any  suitable  explanation  of  why  he  should 
be.  His  main  desire  now  was  to  ride  to  Ganado 
and  find  out  if  the  missionaries  had  left  home,  which 
way  they  had  gone,  and  whether  they  had  met 
Margaret  as  planned. 

"No,  step  right  up  to  the  house  with  me,"  in- 
sisted Rogers.  "It  won't  take  long,  and  I  have  the 
money  in  my  safe." 

Gardley  saw  that  the  quickest  way  was  to  please 
Rogers,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  arouse  any  ques- 
tions, because  he  supposed,  of  course,  his  alarm  was 
mere  foolishness.  So  they  went  together  into 
Rogers's  private  office,  where  his  desk  and  safe  were 
the  principal  furniture,  and  where  no  servants  ven- 
tured to  come  without  orders. 

Rogers  shoved  a  chair  for  Gardley  and  went  over 
to  his  safe,  turning  the  little  nickel  knob  this  way 
and  that  with  the  skill  of  one  long  accustomed,  and 
in  a  moment  the  thick  door  swung  open  and  Rogers 
drew  out  a  japanned  cash-box  and  unlocked  it. 
But  when  he  threw  the  cover  back  he  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  angry  surprise.  The  box  was  empty! 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

MR.  ROGERS  strode  to  the  door,  forgetful  of  his 
sleeping  daughter  overhead,  and  thundered  out 
his  call  for  James.  The  servant  appeared  at  once, 
but  he  knew  nothing  about  the  safe,  and  had  not 
been  in  the  office  that  morning.  Other  servants 
were  summoned  and  put  through  a  rigid  examination. 
Then  Rogers  turned  to  the  woman  who  had  answered 
the  door  for  Gardley  and  sent  her  up  to  call  Rosa. 

But  the  woman  returned  presently  with  word  that 
Miss  Rosa  was  not  in  her  room,  and  there  was  no 
sign  that  her  bed  had  been  slept  in  during  the  night. 
The  woman's  face  was  sullen.  She  did  not  like 
Rosa,  but  was  afraid  of  her.  This  to  her  was  only 
another  of  Miss  Rosa's  pranks,  and  very  likely  her 
doting  father  would  manage  to  blame  the  servants 
with  the  affair. 

Mr.  Rogers's  face  grew  stern.  His  eyes  flashed 
angrily  as  he  turned  and  strode  up  the  stairs  to  his 
daughter's  room,  but  when  he  came  down  again 
he  was  holding  a  note  in  his  trembling  hand  and  his 
face  was  ashen  white. 

"Read  that,  Gardley,"  he  said,  thrusting  the  note 
into  Gardley's  hands  and  motioning  at  the  same 
time  for  the  servants  to  go  away. 

Gardley  took  the  note,  yet  even  as  he  read  he 

337 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

noticed  that  the  paper  was  the  same  as  those  he 
carried  in  his  pocket.  There  was  a  peculiar  water- 
mark that  made  it  noticeable. 

The  note  was  a  flippant  little  affair  from  Rosa, 
telling  her  father  she  had  gone  away  to  be  married 
and  that  she  would  let  him  know  where  she  was  as 
soon  as  they  were  located.  She  added  that  he  had 
forced  her  to  this  step  by  being  so  severe  with  her 
and  not  allowing  her  lover  to  come  to  see  her.  If 
he  had  been  reasonable  she  would  have  stayed  at 
home  and  let  him  give  her  a  grand  wedding;  but  as 
it  was  she  had  only  this  way  of  seeking  her  happiness. 
She  added  that  she  knew  he  would  forgive  her,  and 
she  hoped  he  would  come  to  see  that  her  way  had 
been  best,  and  Forsythe  was  all  that  he  could  desire 
as  a  son-in-law. 

Gardley  uttered  an  exclamation  of  dismay  as  he 
read,  and,  looking  up,  found  the  miserable  eyes  of 
the  stricken  father  upon  him.  For  the  moment  his 
own  alarm  concerning  Margaret  and  his  perplexity 
about  the  letters  was  forgotten  in  the  grief  of  the 
man  who  had  been  his  friend. 

"When  did  she  go?"  asked  Gardley,  quickly  look- 
ing up. 

"She  took  supper  with  me  and  then  went  to  her 
room,  complaining  of  a  headache,"  said  the  father, 
his  voice  showing  his  utter  hopelessness.  "She  may 
have  gone  early  in  the  evening,  perhaps,  for  we  all 
turned  in  about  nine  o'clock  to  keep  the  house  quiet 
on  her  account." 

"Have  you  any  idea  which  way  they  went,  east 
or  west?"  Gardley  was  the  keen  adviser  in  a  crisis 
now,  his  every  sense  on  the  alert. 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  It  is  too  late  now/* 
he  said,  still  in  that  colorless  voice.  "They  will  have 
reached  the  railroad  somewhere.  They  will  have 
been  married  by  this  time.  See,  it  is  after  ten 
o'clock!" 

"Yes,  if  he  marries  her,"  said  Gardley,  fiercely. 
He  had  no  faith  in  Forsythe. 

"You  think — you  don't  think  he  would  dare!19 
The  old  man  straightened  up  and  fairly  blazed  in  his 
righteous  wrath. 

"I  think  he  would  dare  anything  if  he  thought  he 
would  not  be  caught.  He  is  a  coward,  of  course." 

"What  can  we  do?" 

"Telegraph  to  detectives  at  all  points  where  they 
would  be  likely  to  arrive  and  have  them  shadowed. 
Come,  we  will  ride  to  the  station  at  once;  but,  first, 
could  I  go  up  in  her  room  and  look  around?  There 
might  be  some  clue." 

"Certainly,"  said  Rogers,  pointing  hopelessly  up 
the  stairs;  "  the  first  door  to  the  left.  But  you'll  find 
nothing.  I  looked  everywhere.  She  wouldn't  have 
left  a  clue.  While  you're  up  there  I'll  interview  the 
servants.  Then  we'll  go." 

As  hewentup-stairs  Gardley  was  wondering  wheth- 
er he  ought  to  tell  Rogers  of  the  circumstance  of 
the  two  letters.  What  possible  connection  could 
there  be  between  Margaret  Earle's  trip  to  Walpi 
with  the  Brownleighs  and  Rosa  Rogers' s  elopement? 
When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  what  possible  explana- 
tion was  there  for  a  copy  of  Mrs.  Brownleigh's  letter 
to  blow  out  of  Rosa  Rogers's  bedroom  window? 
How  could  it  have  got  there? 

Rosa's  room  was  in  beautiful  order,  the  roses 

339 


A   VOICE   IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

nodding  in  at  the  window,  the  curtain  blowing  back 
and  forth  in  the  breeze  and  rippling  open  the  leaves 
of  a  tiny  Testament  lying  on  her  desk,  as  il  it  had 
been  recently  read.  There  was  nothing  to  show  that 
the  owner  of  the  room  had  taken  a  hasty  flight.  On 
the  desk  lay  several  sheets  of  note-paper  with  the 
peculiar  water-mark.  These  caught  his  attention, 
and  he  took  them  up  and  compared  them  with  the 
papers  in  his  pocket.  It  was  a  strange  thing  that 
that  letter  which  had  sent  Margaret  off  into  the 
wilderness  with  an  unknown  Indian  should  be  written 
on  the  same  kind  of  paper  as  this;  and  yet,  perhaps, 
it  was  not  so  strange,  after  all.  It  probably  was  the 
only  note-paper  to  be  had  in  that  region,  and  must 
all  have  been  purchased  at  the  same  place. 

The  rippling  leaves  of  the  Testament  fluttered 
open  at  the  fly-leaf  and  revealed  Rosa's  name  and  a 
date  with  Mrs.  Brownleigh's  name  written  below, 
and  Gardley  took  it  up,  startled  again  to  find  Hazel 
Brownleigh  mixed  up  with  the  Rogers.  He  had  not 
known  that  they  had  anything  to  do  with  each 
other.  And  yet,  of  course,  they  would,  being  the 
missionaries  of  the  region. 

The  almost  empty  waste-basket  next  caught  his 
eye,  and  here  again  were  several  sheets  of  paper 
written  over  with  words  and  phrases,  words  which 
at  once  he  recognized  as  part  of  the  letter  Mrs.  Tan- 
ner had  given  him.  He  emptied  the  waste-basket 
out  on  the  desk,  thinking  perhaps  there  might  be 
something  there  that  would  give  a  clue  to  where  the 
elopers  had  gone;  but  there  was  not  much  else  in  it 
except  a  little  yellowed  note  with  the  signature 
"Hazel  Brownleigh"  at  the  bottom.  He  glanced 

340 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

through  the  brief  note,  gathered  its  purport,  and  then 
spread  it  out  deliberately  on  the  desk  and  com- 
pared the  writing  with  the  others,  a  wild  fear  clutch- 
ing at  his  heart.  Yet  he  could  not  in  any  way  ex- 
plain why  he  was  so  uneasy.  What  possible  reason 
could  Rosa  Rogers  have  for  forging  a  letter  to  Mar- 
garet from  Hazel  Brownleigh? 

Suddenly  Rogers  stood  behind  him  looking  over 
his  shoulder.  "What  is  it,  Gardley?  WTiat  have 
you  found?  Any  clue?" 

"No  clue,"  said  Gardley,  uneasily,  "but  something 
strange  I  cannot  understand.  I  don't  suppose  it 
can  possibly  have  anything  to  do  with  your  daughter, 
and  yet  it  seems  almost  uncanny.  This  morning  I 
stopped  at  the  Tanners'  to  let  Miss  Earle  know  I  had 
returned,  and  was  told  she  had  gone  yesterday  with 
a  couple  of  Indians  as  guide  to  meet  the  Brown- 
leighs  at  Keams  or  somewhere  near  there,  and  take 
a  trip  with  them  to  Walpi  to  see  the  Hopi  Indians. 
Mrs.  Tanner  gave  me  this  letter  from  Mrs.  Brown- 
leigh, which  Miss  Earle  had  left  behind.  But  when 
I  reached  here  and  was  waiting  for  you  some  papers 
blew  out  of  your  daughter's  window.  When  I 
picked  them  up  I  was  startled  to  find  that  one  of 
them  was  an  exact  copy  of  the  letter  I  had  hi  my 
pocket.  See!  Here  they  are!  I  don't  suppose 
there  is  anything  to  it,  but  in  spite  of  me  I  am  a 
trifle  uneasy  about  Miss  Earle.  I  just  can't  under- 
stand how  that  copy  of  the  letter  came  to  be  here.'* 

Rogers  was  leaning  over,  looking  at  the  papers. 
"What's  this?"  he  asked,  picking  up  the  note  that 
came  with  the  Testament.  He  read  each  paper 
carefully,  took  in  the  little  Testament  with  its  flut- 

341 


A    VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

tering  fly-leaf  and  inscription,  studied  the  pages  of 
words  and  alphabet,  then  suddenly  turned  away  and 
groaned,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"  What  is  it?"  asked  Gardley,  awed  with  the  awful 
sorrow  in  the  strong  man's  attitude. 

"My  poor  baby!"  groaned  the  father.  "My  poor 
little  baby  girl!  I've  always  been  afraid  of  that 
fatal  gift  of  hers.  Gardley,  she  could  copy  any 
handwriting  in  the  world  perfectly.  She  could  write 
my  name  so  it  could  not  be  told  from  my  own  sig- 
nature. She's  evidently  written  that  letter.  Wliy, 
I  don't  know,  unless  she  wanted  to  get  Miss  Earle 
out  of  the  way  so  it  would  be  easier  for  her  to  carry 
out  her  plans." 

"It  can't  be!"  said  Gardley,  shaking  his  head. 
"I  can't  see  what  her  object  would  be.  Besides, 
where  would  she  find  the  Indians?  Mrs.  Tanner  saw 
the  Indians.  They  came  to  the  school  after  her  with 
the  letter,  and  waited  for  her.  Mrs.  Tanner  saw 
them  ride  off  together." 

"There  were  a  couple  of  strange  Indians  here  yes- 
terday, begging  something  to  eat,"  said  Rogers, 
settling  down  on  a  chair  and  resting  his  head  against 
the  desk  as  if  he  had  suddenly  lost  the  strength  to 
stand. 

"This  won't  do!"  said  Gardley.  "We've  got  to 
get  down  to  the  telegraph-office,  you  and  I.  Now 
try  to  brace  up.  Are  the  horses  ready?  Then  we'll 
go  right  away." 

"You  better  question  the  servants  about  those 
Indians  first,"  said  Rogers;  and  Gardley,  as  he  hur- 
ried down  the  stairs,  heard  groan  after  groan  from 
Rosa's  room,  where  her  father  lingered  in  agony. 

342 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

Gardley  got  all  the  information  he  could  about  the 
Indians,  and  then  the  two  men  started  away  on  a 
gallop  to  the  station.  As  they  passed  the  Tanner 
house  Gardley  drew  rein  to  call  to  Bud,  who  hurried 
out  joyfully  to  greet  his  friend,  his  face  lighting 
with  pleasure. 

"Bill,  get  on  your  horse  in  double-quick  tune  and 
beat  it  out  to  camp  for  me,  will  you?"  said  Gardley, 
as  he  reached  down  and  gripped  Bud's  rough  young 
paw.  "Tell  Jasper  Kemp  to  come  back  with  you 
and  meet  me  at  the  station  as  quick  as  he  can. 
Tell  him  to  have  the  men  where  he  can  signal  them. 
We  may  have  to  hustle  out  on  a  long  hunt;  and, 
Bill,  keep  your  head  steady  and  get  back  yourself 
right  away.  Perhaps  I'll  want  you  to  help  me. 
I'm  a  little  anxious  about  Miss  Earle,  but  you  needn't 
tell  anybody  that  but  old  Jasper.  Tell  him  to 
hurry  for  all  he's  worth." 

Bud,  with  his  eyes  large  with  loyalty  and  trouble, 
nodded  understandingly,  returned  the  grip  of  the 
young  man's  hand  with  a  clumsy  squeeze,  and 
sprang  away  to  get  his  horse  and  do  Gardley's 
bidding.  Gardley  knew  he  would  ride  as  for  his 
life,  now  that  he  knew  Margaret's  safety  was  at 
stake. 

Then  Gardley  rode  on  to  the  station  and  was  in- 
defatigable for  two  hours  hunting  out  addresses, 
I  writing  telegrams,  and  calling  up  long-distance  tele- 
phones. 

When  all  had  been  done  that  was  possible  Rogers 
turned  a  haggard  face  to  the  young  man.  "I've 
been  thinking,  Gardley,  that  rash  little  girl  of  mine 
may  have  got  Miss  Earle  into  some  kind  of  a  dan- 

343 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

gerous  position.  You  ought  to  look  after  her. 
What  can  we  do?" 

"I'm  going  to,  sir,"  said  Gardley,  "just  as  soon 
as  I've  done  everything  I  can  for  you.  I've  already 
sent  for  Jasper  Kemp,  and  we'll  make  a  plan  be- 
tween us  and  find  out  if  Miss  Earle  is  all  right. 
Can  you  spare  Jasper  or  will  you  need  him?" 

"By  all  means!  Take  all  the  men  you  need.  I 
sha'n't  rest  easy  till  I  know  Miss  Earle  is  safe." 

He  sank  down  on  a  truck  that  stood  on  the 
station  platform,  his  shoulders  slumping,  his  whole 
attitude  as  of  one  who  was  fatally  stricken.  It 
came  over  Gardley  how  suddenly  old  he  looked,  and 
haggard  and  gray!  What  a  thing  for  the  selfish 
child  to  have  done  to  her  father!  Poor,  silly  child, 
whose  fate  with  Forsythe  would  in  all  probability 
be  anything  but  enviable! 

But  there  was  no  tune  for  sorrowful  reflections. 
Jasper  Kemp,  stern,  alert,  anxious,  came  riding 
furiously  down  the  street,  Bud  keeping  even  pace 
with  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

T  X  7HILE  Gardley  briefly  told  his  tale  to  Jasper 
VV  Kemp,  and  the  Scotchman  was  hastily  scan- 
ning  the  papers  with  his  keen,  bright  eyes,  Bud 
stood  frowning  and  listening  intently. 

"Gee!"  he  burst  forth.  "That  girl's  a  mess! 
'Course  she  did  it!  You  oughta  seen  what  all  she 
didn't  do  the  last  six  weeks  of  school.  Miss  Mar- 
'get got  so  she  shivered  every  tune  that  girl  came 
near  her  or  looked  at  her.  She  sure  had  her  goat! 
Some  nights  after  school,  when  she  thought  she's  all 
alone,  she  just  cried,  she  did.  Why,  Rosa  had  every 
one  of  those  guys  hi  the  back  seat  acting  like  the 
devil,  and  nobody  knew  what  was  the  matter.  She 
wrote  things  on  the  blackboard  right  hi  the  ques- 
tions, so's  it  looked  like  Miss  Mar' get's  writing; 
fierce  things,  sometimes;  and  Miss  Mar'get  didn't 
know  who  did  it.  And  she  was  as  jealous  as  a  cat 
of  Miss  Mar'get.  You  all  know  what  a  case  she 
had  on  that  guy  from  over  by  the  fort;  and  she 
didn't  like  to  have  him  even  look  at  Miss  Mar'get. 
Well,  she  didn't  forget  how  he  went  away  that  night 
of  the  play.  I  caught  her  looking  at  her  like  she 
would  like  to  murder  her.  Good  night!  Some  look! 
The  guy  had  a  case  on  Miss  Mar'get,  all  right,  too, 
only  she  was  onto  him  and  wouldn't  look  at  him  nor 

345 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

let  him  spoon  nor  nothing.  But  Rosa  saw  it  all, 
and  she  just  hated  Miss  Mar'get.  Then  once  Miss 
Mar'get  stopped  her  from  going  out  to  meet  that 
guy,  too.  Oh,  she  hated  her,  all  right!  And  you 
can  bet  she  wrote  the  letter!  Sure  she  did!  She 
wanted  to  get  her  away  when  that  guy  came  back. 
He  was  back  yesterday.  I  saw  him  over  by  the 
run  on  that  trail  that  crosses  the  trail  to  the  old 
cabin.  He  didn't  see  me.  I  got  my  eye  on  him 
first,  and  I  chucked  behind  some  sage-brush,  but 
he  was  here,  all  right,  and  he  didn't  mean  any  good. 
I  follahed  him  awhile  till  he  stopped  and  fixed  up 
a  place  to  camp.  I  guess  he  must  'a'  stayed  out  last 
night—" 

A  heavy  hand  was  suddenly  laid  from  behind  on 
Bud's  shoulder,  and  Rogers  stood  over  him,  his 
dark  eyes  on  fire,  his  lips  trembling. 

"Boy,  can  you  show  me  where  that  was?"  he 
asked,  and  there  was  an  intensity  in  his  voice  that 
showed  Bud  that  something  serious  was  the  matter. 
Boylike  he  dropped  his  eyes  indifferently  before  this 
great  emotion. 

"Sure!" 

"Best  take  Long  Bill  with  you,  Mr.  Rogers," 
advised  Jasper  Kemp,  keenly  alive  to  the  whole 
situation.  "I  reckon  we'll  all  have  to  work  together. 
My  men  ain't  far  off,"  and  he  lifted  his  whistle  to 
his  lips  and  blew  the  signal  blasts.  "The  Kid  here  '11 
want  to  ride  to  Keams  to  see  if  the  lady  is  all  safe 
and  has  met  her  friends.  I  reckon  mebbe  I  better 
go  straight  to  Ganado  and  find  out  if  them  mission 
folks  really  got  started,  and  put  'em  wise  to  what's 
been  going  on.  They'll  mebbe  know  who  them 

346 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

Injuns  was.  I  have  my  suspicions  they  weren't  any 
friendlies.  I  didn't  like  that  Injun  the  minute  I 
set  eyes  on  him  hanging  round  the  school-house,  but 
I  wouldn't  have  stirred  a  step  toward  camp  if  I'd  'a* 
suspected  he  was  come  fur  the  lady.  'Spose  you 
take  Bud  and  Long  Bill  and  go  find  that  camping- 
place  and  see  if  you  find  any  trail  showing  which 
way  they  took.  If  you  do,  you  fire  three  shots,  and 
the  men  '11  be  with  you.  If  you  want  the  Kid,  fire 
four  shots.  He  can't  be  so  fur  away  by  that  time 
that  he  can't  hear.  He's  got  to  get  provisioned  'fore 
he  starts.  Lead  him  out,  Bud.  We  'ain't  got  no 
tune  to  lose." 

Bud  gave  one  despairing  look  at  Gardley  and 
turned  to  obey. 

"That's  all  right,  Bud,"  said  Gardley,  with  an 
understanding  glance.  "You  tell  Mr.  Rogers  all 
you  know  and  show  him  the  place,  and  then  when 
Long  Bill  comes  you  can  take  the  cross-cut  to  the 
Long  Trail  and  go  with  me.  I'll  just  stop  at  the 
house  as  I  go  by  and  tell  your  mother  I  need  you." 

Bud  gave  one  radiant,  grateful  look  and  sprang 
upon  his  horse,  and  Rogers  had  hard  work  to  keep 
up  with  him  at  first,  till  Bud  got  interested  in  giving 
him  a  detailed  account  of  Forsythe's  looks  and  acts. 

In  less  than  an  hour  the  relief  expedition  had 
started.  Before  night  had  fallen  Jasper  Kemp, 
riding  hard,  arrived  at  the  mission,  told  his  story, 
procured  a  fresh  horse,  and  after  a  couple  of  hours, 
rest  started  with  Brownleigh  and  his  wife  for  Keams 
Canon. 

Gardley  and  Bud,  riding  for  all  they  were  worth, 
said  little  by  the  way.  Now  and  then  the  boy  stole 

347 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

glances  at  the  man's  face,  and  the  dead  weight  of 
sorrow  settled  like  lead,  the  heavier,  upon  his  heart. 
Too  well  he  knew  the  dangers  of  the  desert.  He 
could  almost  read  Gardley's  fears  in  the  white,  drawn 
look  about  his  lips,  the  ashen  circles  under  his  eyes, 
the  tense,  strained  pose  of  his  whole  figure.  Gard- 
ley's mind  was  urging  ahead  of  his  steed,  and  his 
body  could  not  relax.  He  was  anxious  to  go  a  little 
faster,  yet  his  judgment  knew  it  would  not  do,  for 
his  horse  would  play  out  before  he  could  get  an- 
other. They  ate  their  corn  bread  in  the  saddle, 
and  only  turned  aside  from  the  trail  once  to  drink 
at  a  water-hole  and  fill  their  cans.  They  rode  late 
into  the  night,  with  only  the  stars  and  their  wits 
to  guide  them.  When  they  stopped  to  rest  they 
did  not  wait  to  make  a  fire,  but  hobbled  the  horses 
where  they  might  feed,  and,  rolling  quickly  in  their 
blankets,  lay  down  upon  the  ground. 

Bud,  with  the  fatigue  of  healthy  youth,  would  have 
slept  till  morning  in  spite  of  his  fears,  but  Gardley 
woke  him  hi  a  couple  of  hours,  made  him  drink  some 
water  and  eat  a  bite  of  food,  and  they  went  on  their 
way  again.  When  morning  broke  they  were  almost 
to  the  entrance  of  Reams  Canon  and  both  looked 
haggard  and  worn.  Bud  seemed  to  have  aged  in 
the  night,  and  Gardley  looked  at  him  almost 
tenderly. 

"Are  you  all  in,  kid?"  he  asked. 

"  Naw!"  answered  Bud,  promptly,  with  an  assumed 
cheerfulness.  "  Feeling  like  a  four-year-old.  Get  on 
to  that  sky?  Guess  we're  going  to  have  some  day! 
Pretty  as  a  red  wagon!" 

Gardley  smiled  sadly.    What  would  that  day  bring 

348 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

forth  for  the  two  who  went  in  search  of  her  they 
loved?  His  great  anxiety  was  to  get  to  Xeams 
Canon  and  inquire.  They  would  surely  know  at 
the  trading-post  whether  the  missionary  and  his 
party  had  gone  that  way. 

The  road  was  still  almost  impassable  from  the 
flood;  the  two  dauntless  riders  picked  their  way  slow- 
ly down  the  trail  to  the  post. 

But  the  trader  could  tell  them  nothing  comfort- 
ing. The  missionary  had  not  been  that  way  in 
two  months,  and  there  had  been  no  party  and  no 
lady  there  that  week.  A  single  strange  Indian  had 
come  down  the  trail  above  the  day  before,  stayed 
awhile,  picked  a  quarrel  with  some  men  who  were 
there,  and  then  ridden  back  up  the  steep  trail  again. 
He  might  have  had  a  party  with  him  up  on  the 
mesa,  waiting.  He  had  said  something  about  his 
squaw.  The  trader  admitted  that  he  might  have 
been  drunk,  but  he  frowned  as  he  spoke  of  him.  He 
called  him  a  "bad  Indian."  Something  unpleasant 
had  evidently  happened. 

The  trader  gave  them  a  good,  hot  dinner,  of  which 
they  stood  sorely  in  need,  and  because  they  realized 
that  they  must  keep  up  their  strength  they  took 
the  time  to  eat  it.  Then,  procuring  fresh  horses, 
they  climbed  the  steep  trail  in  the  direction  the 
trader  said  the  Indian  had  taken.  It  was  a  slender 
clue,  but  it  was  all  they  had,  and  they  must  follow 
it.  And  now  the  travelers  were  very  silent,  as  if 
they  felt  they  were  drawing  near  to  some  knowledge 
that  would  settle  the  question  for  them  one  way  or 
the  other.  As  they  reached  the  top  at  last,  where 
they  could  see  out  across  the  plain,  each  drew  a 
23  349 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

long  breath  like  a  gasp  and  looked  about,  half  fearing 
what  he  might  see. 

Yes,  there  was  the  sign  of  a  recent  camp-fire,  and 
a  few  tin  cans  and  bits  of  refuse,  nothing  more. 
Gardley  got  down  and  searched  carefully.  Bud 
even  crept  about  upon  his  hands  and  knees,  but  a 
single  tiny  blue  bead  like  a  grain  of  sand  was  al! 
that  rewarded  his  efforts.  Some  Indian  had  doubt- 
less camped  here.  That  was  all  the  evidence. 
Standing  thus  in  hopeless  uncertainty  what  to  do 
next,  they  suddenly  heard  voices.  Something  fa- 
miliar once  or  twice  made  Gardley  lift  his  whistle 
and  blow  a  blast.  Instantly  a  silvery  answer  came 
ringing  from  the  mesa  a  mile  or  so  away  and  woke 
the  echoes  in  the  canon.  Jasper  Kemp  and  his  party 
had  taken  the  longer  way  around  instead  of  going 
down  the  canon,  and  were  just  arriving  at  the  spot 
where  Margaret  and  the  squaw  had  waited  two  days 
before  for  their  drunken  guide.  But  Jasper  Kemp's 
whistle  rang  out  again,  and  he  shot  three  times  into 
the  air,  their  signal  to  wait  for  some  important 
news. 

Breathlessly  and  in  silence  the  two  waited  till  the 
coming  of  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  cast  themselves 
down  on  the  ground,  feeling  the  sudden  need  of  sup- 
port. Now  that  there  was  a  possibility  of  some 
news,  they  felt  hardly  able  to  bear  it,  and  the  waiting 
for  it  was  intolerable,  to  such  a  point  of  anxious* 
tension  were  they  strained. 

But  when  the  party  from  Ganado  came  in  sight 
then*  faces  wore  no  brightness  of  good  news.  Their 
greetings  were  quiet,  sad,  anxious,  and  Jasper  Kemp 
held  out  to  Gardley  an  envelope.  It  was  the  one 

350 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

from  Margaret's  mother's  letter  that  she  had  dropped 
upon  the  trail. 

"We  found  it  on  the  way  from  Ganado,  just  as 
we  entered  Steamboat  Canon,"  explained  Jasper. 

"And  didn't  you  search  for  a  trail  off  in  any  other 
direction?"  asked  Gardley,  almost  sharply.  "They 
have  not  been  here.  At  least  only  one  Indian  has 
been  down  to  the  trader's." 

"There  was  no  other  trail.  We  looked,"  said 
Jasper,  sadly.  "There  was  a  camp-fire  twice,  and 
signs  of  a  camp.  We  felt  sure  they  had  come  this 
way." 

Gardley  shook  his  head  and  a  look  of  abject  de- 
spair came  over  his  face.  "There  is  no  sign  here," 
he  said.  "They  must  have  gone  some  other  way. 
Perhaps  the  Indian  has  carried  her  off.  Are  the 
other  men  following." 

"No,  Rogers  sent  them  in  the  other  direction 
after  his  girl.  They  found  the  camp  all  right.  Bud 
tell  you?  We  made  sure  we  had  found  our  trail 
and  would  not  need  them." 

Gardley  dropped  his  head  and  almost  groaned. 

Meanwhile  the  missionary  had  been  riding  around 
in  radiating  circles  from  the  dead  camp-fire,  search- 
ing every  step  of  the  way;  and  Bud,  taking  his  cue 
from  him,  looked  off  toward  the  mesa  a  minute, 
then  struck  out  hi  a  straight  line  for  it  and  rode  off 
like  mad.  Suddenly  there  was  heard  a  shout  loud 
and  long,  and  Bud  came  riding  back,  waving  some- 
thing small  and  white  above  his  head. 

They  gathered  in  a  little  knot,  waiting  for  the  boy,, 
not  speaking;  and  when  he  halted  in  their  midst  he- 
fluttered  down  the  handkerchief  to  Gardley. 

351 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

"It's,  hers,  all  right.  Gotter  name  all  written  out 
on  the  edge!"  he  declared,  radiantly. 

The  sky  grew  brighter  to  them  all  now.  Eagerly 
Gardley  sprang  into  his  saddle,  no  longer  weary, 
but  alert  and  eager  for  the  trail. 

"You  folks  better  go  down  to  the  trader 's  and  get 
some  dinner.  You'll  need  it!  Bud  and  I'll  go  on. 
Mrs.  Brownleigh  looks  all  in." 

"No,"  declared  Hazel,  decidedly.  "We'll  just 
snatch  a  bite  here  and  follow  you  at  once.  I  couldn't 
enjoy  a  dinner  till  I  know  she  is  safe."  And  so, 
though  both  Jasper  Kemp  and  her  husband  urged 
her  otherwise,  she  would  take  a  hasty  meal  by  the 
way  and  hurry  on. 

But  Bud  and  Gardley  waited  not  for  otheis. 
They  plunged  wildly  ahead. 

It  seemed  a  long  way  to  the  eager  hunters,  from 
the  place  where  Bud  had  found  the  handkerchief 
to  the  little  note  twisted  around  the  red  chessman. 
It  was  perhaps  nearly  a  mile,  and  both  the  riders 
had  searched  in  all  directions  for  some  tune  before 
Gardley  spied  it.  Eagerly  he  seized  upon  the  note, 
recognizing  the  little  red  manikin  with  which  he 
had  whiled  away  an  hour  with  Margaret  during  one 
of  her  visits  at  the  camp. 

The  note  was  written  large  and  clear  upon  a  sheet 
of  writing-paper: 

"I  am  Margaret  Earle,  school-teacher  at  Ashland. 
?  am  supposed  to  be  traveling  to  Walpi,  by  way  of 
Keams,  to  meet  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brownleigh  of  Ganado. 
I  am  with  an  Indian,  his  squaw  and  papoose.  The 
Indian  said  he  was  sent  to  guide  me,  but  he  is  drunk 
now  and  I  am  frightened.  He  has  acted  strangely 

352 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

all  the  way.  I  do  not  know  where  I  am.  Please 
come  and  help  me." 

Bud,  sitting  anxious  like  a  statue  upon  his  horse, 
read  Gardley 's  face  as  Gardley  read  the  note.  Then 
Gardley  read  it  aloud  to  Bud,  and  before  the  last 
word  was  fairly  out  of  his  mouth  both  man  and  boy 
started  as  if  they  had  heard  Margaret's  beloved 
voice  calling  them.  It  was  not  long  before  Bud 
found  another  scrap  of  paper  a  half-mile  farther  on, 
and  then  another  and  another,  scattered  at  great 
distances  along  the  way.  The  only  way  they  had 
of  being  sure  she  had  dropped  them  was  that  they 
seemed  to  be  the  same  kind  of  paper  as  that  upon 
which  the  note  was  written. 

How  that  note  with  its  brave,  frightened  appeal 
wrung  the  heart  of  Gardley  as  he  thought  of  Mar- 
garet, unprotected,  in  terror  and  perhaps  in  peril, 
riding  on  she  knew  not  where.  What  trials  and 
fears  had  she  not  already  passed  through!  What 
might  she  not  be  experiencing  even  now  while  he 
searched  for  her? 

It  was  perhaps  two  hours  before  he  found  the 
little  white  stocking  dropped  where  the  trail  divided, 
showing  which  way  she  had  taken.  Gardley  folded 
it  reverently  and  put  it  hi  his  pocket.  An  hour 
later  Bud  pounced  upon  the  bedroom  slipper  and 
carried  it  gleefully  to  Gardley;  and  so  by  slow  de- 
grees, finding  here  and  there  a  chessman  or  more 
paper,  they  came  at  last  to  the  camp  where  the 
Indians  had  abandoned  their  trust  and  fled,  leaving 
Margaret  alone  in  the  wilderness. 

It  was  then  that  Gardley  searched  in  vain  for  any 
further  clue,  and,  riding  wide  in  every  direction, 

353 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

stopped  and  called  her  name  again  and  again,  while 
the  sun  grew  lower  and  lower  and  shadows  crept 
in  lurking-places  waiting  for  the  swift-coming  night. 
It  was  then  that  Bud,  flying  frantically  from  one 
spot  to  another,  got  down  upon  his  knees  behind 
a  sage-bush  when  Gardley  was  not  looking  and 
mumbled  a  rough,  hasty  prayer  for  help.  He  felt 
like  the  old  woman  who,  on  being  told  that  nothing 
but  God  could  save  the  ship,  exclaimed,  "And  has 
it  come  to  that?"  Bud  had  felt  all  his  life  that 
there  was  a  remote  time  in  every  life  when  one 
might  need  to  believe  in  prayer.  The  time  had 
come  for  Bud. 

Margaret,  on  her  knees  in  the  sand  of  the  desert 
praying  for  help,  remembered  the  promise,  "Before 
they  call  I  will  answer,  and  while  they  are  yet  speak- 
ing I  will  hear,"  and  knew  not  that  her  deliverers 
were  on  the  way. 

The  sun  had  been  hot  as  it  beat  down  upon 
the  whiteness  of  the  sand,  and  the  girl  had  crept 
under  a  sage-bush  for  shelter  from  it.  The  pain 
in  her  ankle  was  sickening.  She  had  removed 
her  shoe  and  bound  the  ankle  about  with  a  hand- 
kerchief soaked  with  half  of  her  bottle  of  witch- 
hazel,  and  so,  lying  quiet,  had  fallen  asleep,  too 
exhausted  with  pain  and  anxiety  to  stay  awake 
any  longer. 

When  she  awoke  again  the  softness  of  evening  was 
hovering  over  everything,  and  she  started  up  and 
listened.  Surely,  surely,  she  had  heard  a  voice  call- 
ing her!  She  sat  up  sharply  and  listened.  Ah! 
There  it  was  again,  a  faint  echo  in  the  distance. 

354 


A   VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

Was  it  a  voice,  or  was  it  only  her  dreams  mingling 
with  her  fancies? 

Travelers  in  deserts,  she  had  read,  took  all  sorts 
of  fancies,  saw  mirages,  heard  sounds  that  were  not. 
But  she  had  not  been  out  long  enough  to  have  caught 
such  a  desert  fever.  Perhaps  she  was  going  to  be 
sick.  Still  that  faint  echo  made  her  heart  beat 
wildly.  She  dragged  herself  to  her  knees,  then  to. 
her  feet,  standing  painfully  with  the  weight  on  her 
well  foot. 

The  suffering  horse  turned  his  anguished  eyes  and 
whinnied.  Her  heart  ached  for  him,  yet  there  was 
no  way  she  could  assuage  his  pain  or  put  him  out 
of  his  misery.  But  she  must  make  sure  if  she 
had  heard  a  voice.  Could  she  possibly  scale  that 
rock  down  which  she  and  her  horse  had  fallen? 
For  then  she  might  look  out  farther  and  see  if  there 
were  any  one  in  sight. 

Painfully  she  crawled  and  crept,  up  and  up,  inch 
by  inch,  until  at  last  she  gained  the  little  height 
and  could  look  afar. 

There  was  no  living  thing  in  sight.  The  air  was 
very  clear.  The  eagle  had  found  his  evening  rest 
somewhere  in  a  quiet  crag.  The  long  corn  waved  on- 
the  distant  plain,  and  all  was  deathly  still  once  more. 
There  was  a  hint  of  coming  sunset  hi  the  sky.  Her 
heart  sank,  and  she  was  about  to  give  up  hope  en- 
tirely, when,  rich  and  clear,  there  it  came  again! 
A  voice  in  the  wilderness  calling  her  name:  "Mar- 
garet! Margaret !" 

The  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes  and  crowded  in  her 
throat.  She  could  not  answer,  she  was  so  over- 
whelmed; and  though  she  tried  twice  to  call  out,  she 

355 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

could  make  no  sound.  But  the  call  kept  coming 
again  and  again:  "Margaret!  Margaret!"  and  it 
was  Gardley's  voice.  Impossible!  For  Gardley  was 
far  away  and  could  not  know  her  need.  Yet  it  was 
his  voice.  Had  she  died,  or  was  she  in  delirium  that 
she  seemed  to  hear  him  calling  her  name? 

But  the  call  came  clearer  now:  " Margaret!  Mar- 
garet! I  am  coming !"  and  like  a  flash  her  mind 
went  back  to  the  first  night  in  Arizona  when  she 
heard  him  singing,  "From  the  Desert  I  Come  to 
Thee!" 

Now  she  struggled  to  her  feet  again  and  shouted, 
inarticulately  and  gladly  through  her  tears.  She 
could  see  him.  It  was  Gardley.  He  was  riding 
fast  toward  her,  and  he  shot  three  shots  into  the  air 
above  him  as  he  rode,  and  three  shrill  blasts  of  his 
whistle  rang  out  on  the  still  evening  air. 

She  tore  the  scarf  from  her  neck  that  she  had  tied 
about  it  to  keep  the  sun  from  blistering  her,  and 
waved  it  wildly  in  the  air  now,  shouting  in  happy, 
choking  sobs. 

And  so  he  came  to  her  across  the  desert! 

He  sprang  down  before  the  horse  had  fairly  reached 
her  side,  and,  rushing  to  her,  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"Margaret!  My  darling!  I  have  found  you  at 
last!" 

She  swayed  and  would  have  fallen  but  }or  hfe 
arms,  and  then  he  saw  her  white  face  and  knew 
she  must  be  suffering. 

"You  are  hurt!"  he  cried.  "Oh,  what  ha\0  they 
done  to  you?"  And  he  laid  her  gently  down  upon 
the  sand  and  dropped  on  his  knees  beside  he?. 

"Oh  no,"  she  gasped,  joyously,  with  white  ftps. 

356 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

'Tm  all  right  now.  Only  my  ankle  hurts  a  little. 
We  had  a  fall,  the  horse  and  I.  Oh,  go  to  him  at 
once  and  put  him  out  of  his  pain.  I'm  sure  his  legs 
are  broken." 

For  answer  Gardley  put  the  whistle  to  his  lips 
and  blew  a  blast.  He  would  not  leave  her  for  an 
instant.  He  was  not  sure  yet  that  she  was  not 
more  hurt  than  she  had  said.  He  set  about  discov- 
ering at  once,  for  he  had  brought  with  him  supplies 
for  all  emergencies. 

It  was  Bud  who  came  riding  madly  across  the 
mesa  in  answer  to  the  call,  reaching  Gardley  before 
any  one  else.  Bud  with  his  eyes  shining,  his  cheeks 
blazing  with  excitement,  his  hah*  wildly  flying  in  the 
breeze,  his  young,  boyish  face  suddenly  grown  old 
with  lines  of  anxiety.  But  you  wouldn't  have  known 
from  his  greeting  that  it  was  anything  more  than  a 
pleasure  excursion  he  had  been  on  the  past  two  days. 

"Good  work,  Kid!    Whatcha  want  me  t'  do?" 

It  was  Bud  who  arranged  the  camp  and  went  back 
to  tell  the  other  detachments  that  Margaret  was 
found;  Bud  who  led  the  pack-horse  up,  unpacked 
the  provisions,  and  gathered  wood  to  start  a  fire. 
Bud  was  everywhere,  with  a  smudged  face,  a  weary, 
gray  look  around  his  eyes,  and  his  hair  sticking 
"seven  ways  for  Sunday."  Yet  once,  when  his 
labors  led  him  near  to  where  Margaret  lay  weak  and 
happy  on  a  couch  of  blankets,  he  gave  her  an  un- 
wonted pat  on  her  shoulder  and  said  in  a  low  tone: 
"Hello,  Gang!  See  you  kept  your  nerve  with  you!" 
and  then  he  gave  her  a  grin  all  across  his  dirty,  tired 
face,  and  moved  away  as  if  he  were  half  ashamed  of 
his  emotion.  But  it  was  Bud  again  who  came  and 

357 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

talked  with  her  to  divert  her  so  that  she  wouldn't 
notice  when  they  shot  her  horse.  He  talked  loudly 
about  a  coyote  they  shot  the  night  before,  and  a, 
cottontail  they  saw  at  Keams,  and  when  he  saw 
that  she  understood  what  the  shot  meant,  and  there 
were  tears  in  her  eyes,  he  gave  her  hand  a  rough, 
bear  squeeze  and  said,  gruffly:  "You  should  worry! 
He's  better  off  now!"  And  when  Gardley  came 
back  he  took  himself  thoughtfully  to  a  distance  and 
busied  himself  opening  tins  of  meat  and  soup. 

In  another  hour  the  Brownleighs  arrived,  having 
heard  the  signals,  and  they  had  a  supper  around 
the  camp-fire,  everybody  so  rejoiced  that  there  were 
still  quivers  in  their  voices;  and  when  any  one 
laughed  it  sounded  like  the  echo  of  a  sob,  so  great 
had  been  the  strain  of  their  anxiety. 

Gardley,  sitting  beside  Margaret  in  the  starlight 
afterward,  her  hand  in  his,  listened  to  the  story  of 
her  journey,  the  strong,  tender  pressure  of  his  fingers 
telling  her  how  deeply  it  affected  him  to  know 
the  peril  through  which  she  had  passed.  Later, 
when  the  others  were  telling  gay  stories  about  the 
fire,  and  Bud  lying  full  length  in  their  midst  had 
fallen  fast  asleep,  these  two,  a  little  apart  from  the 
rest,  were  murmuring  their  innermost  thoughts  in 
low  tones  to  each  other,  and  rejoicing  that  they 
were  together  once  more. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

'"THEY  talked  it  over  the  next  morning  at  break- 
A  fast  as  they  sat  around  the  fire.  Jasper  Kemp 
thought  he  ought  to  get  right  back  to  attend  to 
things.  Mr.  Rogers  was  all  broken  up,  and  might 
even  need  him  to  search  for  Rosa  if  they  had  not 
found  out  her  whereabouts  yet.  He  and  Fiddling 
Boss,  who  had  come  along,  would  start  back  at 
once.  They  had  had  a  good  night's  rest  and  had 
found  their  dear  lady.  What  more  did  they  need? 
Besides,  there  were  not  provisions  for  an  indefinite 
stay  for  such  a  large  party,  and  there  were  none 
too  many  sources  of  supply  in  this  region. 

The  missionary  thought  that,  now  he  was  here,  he 
ought  to  go  on  to  Walpi.  It  was  not  more  than  two 
hours'  ride  there,  and  Hazel  could  stay  with  the 
camp  while  Margaret's  ankle  had  a  chance  to  rest 
and  let  the  swelling  subside  under  treatment. 

Margaret,  however,  rebelled.  She  did  not  wish 
to  be  an  invalid,  and  was  very  sure  she  could  ride 
without  injury  to  her  ankle.  She  wanted  to  see 
Walpi  and  the  queer  Hopi  Indians,  now  she  was  so 
near.  So  a  compromise  was  agreed  upon.  They  would 
all  wait  in  camp  a  couple  of  days,  and  then  if  Mar- 
garet felt  well  enough  they  would  go  on,  visit  the 
Hopis,  and  so  go  home  together. 

359 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

Bud  pleaded  to  be  allowed  to  stay  with  them, 
and  Jasper  Kemp  promised  to  make  it  all  right  with 
his  parents. 

So  for  two  whole,  long,  lovely  days  the  little  party 
of  five  camped  on  the  mesa  and  enjoyed  sweet  con- 
verse. It  is  safe  to  say  that  never  in  all  Bud's  life 
will  he  forget  or  get  away  from  the  influences  of 
that  day  in  such  company. 

Gardley  and  the  missionary  proved  to  be  the  best 
of  physicians,  and  Margaret's  ankle  improved  hour- 
ly under  their  united  treatment  of  compresses, 
lotions,  and  rest.  About  noon  on  Saturday  they 
broke  camp,  mounted  their  horses,  and  rode  away 
across  the  stretch  of  white  sand,  through  tall  corn- 
fields growing  right  up  out  of  the  sand,  closer  and 
closer  to  the  great  mesa  with  the  castle-like  pueblos 
five  hundred  feet  above  them  on  the  top.  It  seemed 
to  Margaret  like  suddenly  being  dropped  into  Egypt 
or  the  Holy  Land,  or  some  of  the  Babylonian  ex- 
cavations, so  curious  and  primitive  and  altogether 
different  from  anything  else  she  had  ever  seen  did 
it  all  appear.  She  listened,  fascinated,  while  Brown- 
leigh  told  about  this  strange  Hopi  land,  the  strangest 
spot  in  America.  Spanish  explorers  found  them 
away  back  years  before  the  Pilgrims  landed,  and 
called  the  country  Tuscayan.  They  built  their 
homes  up  high  for  protection  from  their  enemies. 
They  lived  on  the  corn,  pumpkins,  peaches,  and 
melons  which  they  raised  in  the  valley,  planting  the 
seeds  with  their  hands.  It  is  supposed  they  got 
their  seeds  first  from  the  Spaniards  years  ago. 
They  make  pottery,  cloth,  and  baskets,  and  are  a 
busy  people. 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

There  are  seven  villages  built  on  three  mesas  in 
the  northern  desert.  One  of  the  largest,  Orabi,  has 
a  thousand  inhabitants.  Walpi  numbers  about  two 
hundred  and  thirty  people,  all  living  in  this  one 
great  building  of  many  rooms.  They  are  divided 
into  brotherhoods,  or  phratries,  and  each  brother- 
hood has  several  large  families.  They  are  ruled 
by  a  speaker  chief  and  a  war  chief  elected  by  a 
council  of  clan  elders. 

Margaret  learned  with  wonder  that  all  the  water 
these  people  used  had  to  be  carried  by  the  women 
in  jars  on  their  backs  five  hundred  feet  up  the  steep 
trail. 

Presently,  as  they  drew  nearer,  a  curious  man  with 
his  hair  "banged"  like  a  child's,  and  garments 
much  like  those  usually  worn  by  scarecrows — a 
shapeless  kind  of  shirt  and  trousers — appeared  along 
the  steep  and  showed  them  the  way  up.  Margaret 
and  the  missionary's  wife  exclaimed  in  horror  over 
the  little  children  playing  along  the  very  edge  of  the 
cliffs  above  as  carelessly  as  birds  in  trees. 

High  up  on  the  mesa  at  last,  how  strange  and  weird 
it  seemed!  Far  below  the  yellow  sand  of  the  valley; 
fifteen  miles  away  a  second  mesa  stretching  dark; 
to  the  southwest,  a  hundred  miles  distant,  the  dun 
outlines  of  the  San  Francisco  peaks.  Some  little 
children  on  burros  crossing  the  sand  below  looked  as 
if  they  were  part  of  a  curious  moving-picture,  not 
as  if  they  were  little  living  beings  taking  life  as  seri- 
ously as  other  children  do.  The  great,  wide  desert 
stretching  far!  The  bare,  solid  rocks  beneath  their 
feet !  The  curious  houses  behind  them !  It  all  seemed 
unreal  to  Margaret,  like  a  great  picture-book  spread 

361 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

out  for  her  to  see.  She  turned  from  gazing  and  found 
Gardley's  eyes  upon  her  adoringly,  a  tender  under- 
standing of  her  mood  in  his  glance.  She  thrilled 
with  pleasure  to  be  here  with  him;  a  soft  flush  spread 
over  her  cheeks  and  a  light  came  into  her  eyes. 

They  found  the  Indians  preparing  for  one  of 
1  their  most  famous  ceremonies,  the  snake  dance, 
which  was  to  take  place  in  a  few  days.  For  almost 
a  week  the  snake  priests  had  been  busy  hunting 
rattlesnakes,  building  altars,  drawing  figures  in  the 
sand,  and  singing  weird  songs.  On  the  ninth  day 
the  snakes  are  washed  in  a  pool  and  driven  near  a 
pile  of  sand.  The  priests,  arrayed  in  paint,  feathers, 
and  charms,  come  out  in  line  and,  taking  the  live 
snakes  in  their  mouths,  parade  up  and  down  the 
rocks,  while  the  people  crowd  the  roofs  and  terraces 
of  the  pueblos  to  watch.  There  are  helpers  to  whip 
the  snakes  and  keep  them  from  biting,  and  catchers 
to  see  that  none  get  away.  In  a  little  while  the 
priests  take  the  snakes  down  on  the  desert  and  set 
them  free,  sending  them  north,  south,  east,  and  west, 
where  it  is  supposed  they  will  take  the  people's 
prayers  for  rain  to  the  water  serpent  in  the  under- 
world, who  is  in  some  way  connected  with  the  god 
of  the  rain-clouds. 

It  was  a  strange  experience,  that  night  in  Walpi: 
the  primitive  accommodations;  the  picturesque,  un- 
civilized people;  the  shy  glances  from  dark,  eager 
eyes.  To  watch  two  girls  grinding  corn  between 
two  stones,  and  a  little  farther  off  their  mother 
rolling  out  her  dough  with  an  ear  of  corn,  and  cook- 
ing over  an  open  fire,  her  pot  slung  from  a  crude 
crane  over  the  blaze — it  was  all  too  unreal  to  be 

362 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

But  the  most  interesting  thing  about  it  was  to 
watch  the  "Aneshodi"  going  about  among  them, 
his  face  alight  with  warm,  human  love;  his  hearty 
laugh  ringing  out  in  a  joke  that  the  Hopis  seemed 
to  understand,  making  himself  one  with  them.  It 
came  to  Margaret  suddenly  to  remember  the  pom- 
pous little  figure  of  the  Rev.  Frederick  West,  and  to 
fancy  him  going  about  among  these  people  and  try- 
ing to  do  them  good.  Before  she  knew  what  she 
was  doing  she  laughed  aloud  at  the  thought.  Then, 
of  course,  she  had  to  explain  to  Bud  and  Gardley, 
who  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"Aw!  Gee!  Him?  He  wasn't  a  minister!  He 
was  a  mistake!  Fergit  him,  the  poor  simp!"  growled 
Bud,  sympathetically.  Then  his  eyes  softened  as 
he  watched  Brownleigh  playing  with  three  little  Ind- 
ian maids,  having  a  fine  romp.  "Gee!  he  certain- 
ly is  a  peach,  isn't  he?"  he  murmured,  his  whole 
face  kindling  appreciatively.  "Gee!  I  bet  that  kid 
never  forgets  that!" 

The  Sunday  was  a  wonderful  day,  when  the  mis- 
sionary gathered  the  people  together  and  spoke  to 
them  in  simple  words  of  God — their  god  who  made 
the  sky,  the  stars,  the  mountains,  and  the  sun, 
whom  they  call  by  different  names,  but  whom  He 
called  God.  He  spoke  of  the  Book  of  Heaven  that 
told  about  God  and  His  great  love  for  men,  so  great 
that  He  sent  His  son  to  save  them  from  their  sin. 
It  was  not  a  long  sermon,  but  a  very  beautiful  one; 
and,  listening  to  the  simple,  wonderful  words  of  life 
that  fell  from  the  missionary's  earnest  lips  and  were 
translated  by  his  faithful  Indian  interpreter,  who 

always  went  with  him  on  his  expeditions,  watching 

363 


A    VOICE    IN    THE   WILDERNESS 

the  faces  of  the  dark,  strange  people  as  they  took  in 
the  marvelous  meaning,  the  little  company  of  visitors 
was  strangely  moved.  Even  Bud,  awed  beyond 
hig  wont,  said,  shyly,  to  Margaret: 

"Gee!  It's  something  fierce  not  to  be  born  a 
Christian  and  know  all  that,  ain't  it?" 

Margaret  and  Gardley  walked  a  little  way  down 
the  narrow  path  that  led  out  over  the  neck  of  rock 
less  than  a  rod  wide  that  connects  the  great  promon- 
tory with  the  mesa.  The  sun  was  setting  in  maj- 
esty over  the  desert,  and  the  scene  was  one  of 
breathless  beauty.  One  might  fancy  it  might  look 
so  to  stand  on  the  hills  of  God  and  look  out  over 
creation  when  all  things  have  been  made  new. 

They  stood  for  a  while  in  silence.  Then  Mar- 
garet looked  down  at  the  narrow  path  worn  more 
than  a  foot  deep  in  the  solid  rock  by  the  ten  genera- 
tions of  feet  that  had  been  passing  over  it. 

"Just  think,"  she  said,  "of  all  the  feet,  little  and 
big,  that  have  walked  here  hi  all  the  years,  and  of 
all  the  souls  that  have  stood  and  looked  out  over  this 
wonderful  sight!  It  must  be  that  somehow  in  spite 
of  their  darkness  they  have  reached  out  to  the  God 
who  made  this,  and  have  found  a  way  to  His  heart. 
They  couldn't  look  at  this  and  not  feel  Hun,  could 
they?  It  seems  to  me  that  perhaps  some  of  those 
poor  creatures  who  have  stood  here  and  reached  up 
blindly  after  the  Creator  of  their  souls  have,  perhaps, 
been  as  pleasing  to  Him  as  those  who  have  known 
about  Him  from  childhood." 

Gardley  was  used  to  her  talking  this  way.  He 
had  not  been  in  her  Sunday  meetings  for  nothing. 
He  understood  and  sympathized,  and  now  his  hand 

364 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

reached  softly  for  hers  and  held  it  tenderly.  After 
a  moment  of  silence  he  said: 

"I  surely  think  if  God  could  reach  and  find  me 
in  the  desert  of  my  life,  He  must  have  found  them. 
I  sometimes  think  I  was  a  greater  heathen  than  all 
these,  because  I  knew  and  would  not  see." 

Margaret  nestled  her  hand  in  his  and  looked  up 
joyfully  into  his  face.  "Fm  so  glad  you  know  Him 
now!"  she  murmured,  happily. 

They  stood  for  some  time  looking  out  over  the 
changing  scene,  till  the  crimson  faded  into  rose, 
the  silver  into  gray;  till  the  stars  bloomed  out 
one  by  one,  and  down  in  the  valley  across  the  desert 
a  light  twinkled  faintly  here  and  there  from  the 
camps  of  the  Hopi  shepherds. 

They  started  home  at  daybreak  the  next  morning, 
the  whole  company  of  Indians  standing  on  the  rocks 
to  send  them  royally  on  their  way,  pressing  simple, 
homely  gifts  upon  them  and  begging  them  to  return 
soon  again  and  tell  the  blessed  story. 

A  wonderful  ride  they  had  back  to  Ganado,  where 
Gardley  left  Margaret  for  a  short  visit,  promising 
to  return  for  her  in  a  few  days  when  she  was  rested, 
and  hastened  back  to  Ashland  to  his  work;  for  his 
soul  was  happy  now  and  at  ease,  and  he  felt  he  must 
get  to  work  at  once.  Rogers  would  need  him. 
Poor  Rogers!  Had  he  found  his  daughter  yet? 
Poor,  silly  child-prodigal!  « 

But  when  Gardley  reached  Ashland  he  found 
among  his  mail  awaiting  him  a  telegram.  His  uncle 
was  dead,  and  the  fortune  which  he  had  been  brought 
up  to  believe  was  his,  and  which  he  had  idly  tossed 

24  365 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

away  in  a  moment  of  recklessness,  had  been  restored 
to  him  by  the  uncle's  last  will,  made  since  Gardley's 
recent  visit  home.  The  fortune  was  his  again! 

Gardley  sat  hi  his  office  on  the  Rogers  ranch  and 
stared  hard  at  the  adobe  wall  opposite  his  desk. 
That  fortune  would  be  great!  He  could  do  such 
wonderful  things  for  Margaret  now.  They  could 
work  out  their  dreams  together  for  the  people  they 
loved.  He  could  see  the  shadows  of  those  dreams — 
a  beautiful  home  for  Margaret  out  on  the  trail  she 
loved,  where  wildness  and  beauty  and  the  mountain 
she  called  hers  were  not  far  away;  horses  in  plenty 
and  a  luxurious  car  when  they  wanted  to  take  a  trip; 
journeys  East  as  often  as  they  wished;  some  of  the 
ideal  appliances  for  the  school  that  Margaret  loved; 
a  church  for  the  missionary  and  convenient  halls 
where  he  could  speak  at  his  outlying  districts;  a 
trip  to  the  city  for  Mom  Wallis,  where  she  might  see 
a  real  picture-gallery,  her  one  expressed  desire  this 
side  of  heaven,  now  that  she  had  taken  to  reading 
Browning  and  had  some  of  it  explained  to  her.  Oh, 
and  a  lot  of  wonderful  things!  These  all  hung  in 
the  dream-picture  before  Gardley's  eyes  as  he  sat  at 
his  desk  with  that  bit  of  yellow  paper  in  his  hand. 

He  thought  of  what  that  money  had  represented 
to  him  in  the  past.  Reckless  days  and  nights  of 
folly  as  a  boy  and  young  man  at  college;  ruthless 
waste  of  time,  money,  youth;  shriveling  of  soul,  till 
Margaret  came  and  found  and  rescued  him!  How 
wonderful  that  he  had  been  rescued!  That  he  had 
come  to  his  senses  at  last,  and  was  here  in  a  man's 
position,  doing  a  man's  work  in  the  world!  Now, 
with  all  that  money,  there  was  no  need  for  him  to 

366 


A   VOICE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

work  and  earn  more.  He  could  live  idly  all  his 
days  and  just  have  a  good  time — make  others  happy, 
too.  But  still  he  would  not  have  this  exhilarating 
feeling  that  he  was  supplying  his  own  and  Margaret's 
necessities  by  the  labor  of  hand  and  brain.  The 
little  telegram  in  his  hand  seemed  somehow  to  be 
trying  to  snatch  from  him  all  this  material  pros- 
perity that  was  the  symbol  of  that  spiritual  regenera- 
tion which  had  become  so  dear  to  him. 

He  put  his  head  down  on  his  clasped  hands  upon 
the  desk  then  and  prayed.  Perhaps  it  was  the  first 
great  prayer  of  his  life. 

"O  God,  let  me  be  strong  enough  to  stand  this 
that  has  come  upon  me.  Help  me  to  be  a  man  in 
spite  of  money!  Don't  let  me  lose  my  manhood 
and  my  right  to  work.  Help  me  to  use  the  money 
in  the  right  way  and  not  to  dwarf  myself,  nor  spoil 
our  lives  with  it."  It  was  a  great  prayer  for  a  man 
such  as  Gardley  had  been,  and  the  answer  came 
swiftly  in  his  conviction. 

He  lifted  up  his  head  with  purpose  in  his  ex- 
pression, and,  folding  the  telegram,  put  it  safely  back 
into  his  pocket.  He  would  not  tell  Margaret  of  it 
— not  just  yet.  He  would  think  it  out — just  the 
right  way — and  he  did  not  believe  he  meant  to  give 
up  his  position  with  Rogers.  He  had  accepted  it 
for  a  year  in  good  faith,  and  it  was  his  business  to 
fulfil  the  contract.  Meantime,  this  money  would 
perhaps  make  possible  his  marriage  with  Margaret 
sooner  than  he  had  hoped. 

Five  minutes  later  Rogers  telephoned  to  the  office. 

"I've  decided  to  take  that  shipment  of  cattle 
and  try  that  new  stock,  provided  you  will  go  out  and 

367 


A   VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

look  at  them  and  see  that  everything  is  all  O.  K.  I 
couldn't  go  myself  now.  Don't  feel  like  going  any- 
where, you  know.  You  wouldn't  need  to  go  for  a 
couple  of  weeks.  I've  just  had  a  letter  from  the 
man,  and  he  says  he  won't  be  ready  sooner.  Say, 
why  don't  you  and  Miss  Earle  get  married  and 
make  this  a  wedding-trip?  She  could  go  to  the  Pa- 
cific coast  with  you.  It  would  be  a  nice  trip.  Then 
I  could  spare  you  for  a  month  or  six  weeks  when 
you  got  back  if  you  wanted  to  take  her  East  for 
a  little  visit." 

Why  not?  Gardley  stumbled  out  his  thanks  and 
hung  up  the  receiver,  his  face  full  of  the  light  of  a 
great  joy.  How  were  the  blessings  pouring  down 
upon  his  head  these  days?  Was  it  a  sign  that  God 
was  pleased  with  his  action  in  making  good  what  he 
could  where  he  had  failed?  And  Rogers !  How  kind 
he  was!  Poor  Rogers,  with  his  broken  heart  and  his 
stricken  home!  For  Rosa  had  come  home  again  a 
sadder,  wiser  child;  and  her  father  seemed  crushed 
with  the  disgrace  of  it  all. 

Gardley  went  to  Margaret  that  very  afternoon. 
He  told  her  only  that  he  had  had  some  money  left 
him  by  his  uncle,  which  would  make  it  possible 
for  him  to  marry  at  once  and  keep  her  comfortably 
now.  He  was  to  be  sent  to  California  on  a  business 
trip.  Would  she  be  married  and  go  with  him? 

Margaret  studied  the  telegram  in  wonder.  She 
had  never  asked  Gardley  much  about  his  circum- 
stances. The  telegram  merely  stated  that  his  uncle's 
estate  was  left  to  him.  To  her  simple  mind  an  es- 
tate might  be  a  few  hundred  dollars,  enough  to  fur- 
nish a  plain  little  home;  and  her  face  lighted  with 

368 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

joy  over  it.  She  asked  no  questions,  and  Gardley 
said  no  more  about  the  money.  He  had  forgotten 
that  question,  comparatively,  in  the  greater  pos- 
sibility of  joy. 

Would  she  be  married  in  ten  days  and  go  with 
him? 

Her  eyes  met  his  with  an  answering  joy,  and  yet 
he  could  see  that  there  was  a  trouble  hiding  some- 
where. He  presently  saw  what  it  was  without  need- 
ing to  be  told.  Her  father  and  mother!  Of  course, 
they  would  be  disappointed!  They  would  want  her 
to  be  married  at  home! 

"But  Rogers  said  we  could  go  and  visit  them  for 
several  weeks  on  our  return,"  he  said;  and  Mar- 
garet's face  lighted  up. 

"Oh,  that  would  be  beautiful,"  she  said,  wistfully; 
"and  perhaps  they  won't  mind  so  much — though  I 
always  expected  father  would  marry  me  if  I  was 
ever  married;  still,  if  we  can  go  home  so  soon  and 
for  so  long — and  Mr.  Brownleigh  would  be  next 
best,  of  course." 

"But,  of  course,  your  father  must  marry  you," 
said  Gardley,  determinedly.  "Perhaps  we  could 
persuade  him  to  come,  and  your  mother,  too." 

"Oh  no,  they  couldn't  possibly,"  said  Margaret, 
quickly,  a  shade  of  sadness  in  her  eyes.  "You  know 
it  costs  a  lot  to  come  out  here,  and  ministers  are 
never  rich." 

It  was  then  that  Gardley 's  eyes  lighted  with  joy. 
His  money  could  take  this  bugbear  away,  at  least. 
However,  he  said  nothing  about  the  money. 

"Suppose  we  write  to  your  father  and  mother 
and  put  the  matter  before  them.  See  what  they 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

say.  We'll  send  the  letters  to-night.  You  write 
your  mother  and  I'll  write  your  father." 

Margaret  agreed  and  sat  down  at  once  to  write 
her  letter,  while  Gardley,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  wrote  his,  scratching  away  contentedly  with 
his  fountain-pen  and  looking  furtively  now  and  then 
toward  the  bowed  head  over  at  the  desk. 

Gardley  did  not  read  his  letter  to  Margaret.  She 
wondered  a  little  at  this,  but  did  not  ask,  and  the 
letters  were  mailed,  with  special-delivery  stamps 
on  them.  Gardley  awaited  their  replies  with  great 
impatience. 

He  filled  in  the  days  of  waiting  with  business. 
There  were  letters  to  write  connected  with  his, fort- 
une, and  there  were  arrangements  to  be  made  for 
his  trip.  But  the  thing  that  occupied  the  most  of 
his  tune  and  thought  was  the  purchase  and  refitting 
of  a  roomy  old  ranch-house  in  a  charming  location, 
not  more  than  three  miles  from  Ashland,  on  the  road 
to  the  camp. 

It  had  been  vacant  for  a  couple  of  years  past,  the 
owner  having  gone  abroad  permanently  and  the 
place  having  been  offered  for  sale.  Margaret  had 
often  admired  it  in  her  trips  to  and  from  the  camp, 
and  Gardley  thought  of  it  at  once  when  it  became 
possible  for  him  to  think  of  purchasing  a  home  in 
the  West. 

There  was  a  great  stone  fireplace,  and  the  beamr 
of  the  ceilings  and  pillars  of  the  porch  and  wide, 
hospitable  rooms  were  of  tree-trunks  with  the  bark 
on  them.  With  a  little  work  it  could  be  made 
roughly  but  artistically  habitable.  Gardley  had  it 
cleaned  up,  not  disturbing  the  tangle  of  vines  and 

370 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

shrubbery  that  had  had  their  way  since  the  last 
owner  had  left  them  and  which  had  made  a  perfect 
screen  from  the  road  for  the  house. 

Behind  this  screen  the  men  worked — most  of 
them  the  men  from  the  bunk-house,  whom  Gardley 
took  into  his  confidence. 

The  floors  were  carefully  scrubbed  under  the  di- 
rection of  Mom  Wallis,  and  the  windows  made  shin- 
ing. Then  the  men  spent  a  day  bringing  great  loads 
of  tree-boughs  and  filling  the  place  with  green  fra- 
grance, until  the  big  living-room  looked  like  a  wood- 
land bower.  Gardley  made  a  raid  upon  some  Ind- 
ian friends  of  his  and  came  back  with  several  fine 
Navajo  rugs  and  blankets,  which  he  spread  about 
the  room  luxuriously  on  the  floor  and  over  the  rude 
benches  which  the  men  had  constructed.  They  piled 
the  fireplace  with  big  logs,  and  Gardley  took  over  some 
of  his  own  personal  possessions  that  he  had  brought 
back  from  the  East  with  him  to  give  the  place  a 
livable  look.  Then  he  stood  back  satisfied.  The 
place  was  fit  to  bring  his  bride  and  her  friends  to. 
Not  that  it  was  as  it  should  be.  That  would  be  for 
Margaret  to  do,  but  it  would  serve  as  a  temporary 
stopping-place  if  there  came  need.  If  no  need  came, 
why,  the  place  was  there,  anyway,  hers  and  his.  A 
tender  light  grew  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  it  over  in 
the  dying  light  of  the  afternoon.  Then  he  went  out 
and  rode  swiftly  to  the  telegraph-office  and  found 
these  two  telegrams,  according  to  the  request  in  his 
own  letter  to  Mr.  Earle. 

Gardley's  telegram  read: 

Congratulations.  Will  come  as  you  desire.  We  await  you* 
advice.  Have  written. — FATHER. 

371 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

He  saddled  his  horse  and  hurried  to  Margaret 
with  hers,  and  together  they  read: 

Dear  child!  So  glad  for  you.  Of  course  you  will  go.  I 
am  sending  you  some  things.  Don't  take  a  thought  for 
us.  We  shall  look  forward  to  your  visit.  Our  love  to  you 
both. — MOTHER. 

Margaret,  folded  in  her  lover's  arms,  cried  out 
her  sorrow  and  her  joy,  and  lifted  up  her  face  with 
happiness.  Then  Gardley,  with  great  joy,  thought 
of  the  surprise  he  had  in  store  for  her  and  laid  his 
face  against  hers  to  hide  the  tell-tale  smile  in  his 
eyes. 

For  Gardley,  in  his  letter  to  his  future  father-in- 
law,  had  written  of  his  newly  inherited  fortune,  and 
had  not  only  inclosed  a  check  for  a  good  sum  to 
cover  all  extra  expense  of  the  journey,  but  had 
said  that  a  private  car  would  be  at  their  disposal, 
not  only  for  themselves,  but  for  any  of  Margaret's 
friends  and  relatives  whom  they  might  choose  to 
invite.  As  he  had  written  this  letter  he  was  filled 
with  deep  thanksgiving  that  it  was  in  his  power  to 
do  this  thing  for  his  dear  girl-bride. 

The  morning  after  the  telegrams  arrived  Gardley 
spent  several  hours  writing  telegrams  and  receiving 
them  from  a  big  department  store  in  the  nearest 
great  city,  and  before  noon  a  big  shipment  of  goods 
was  on  its  way  to  Ashland.  Beds,  bureaus,  wash- 
stands,  chairs,  tables,  dishes,  kitchen  utensils,  and 
all  kinds  of  bedding,  even  to  sheets  and  pillow-cases, 
he  ordered  with  lavish  hand.  After  all,  he  must  fur- 
nish the  house  himself,  and  let  Margaret  weed  it  out 
or  give  it  away  afterward,  if  she  did  not  like  it.  He 

372 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

was  going  to  have  a  house  party  and  he  must  be 
ready.  When  all  was  done  and  he  was  just  about 
to  mount  his  horse  again  he  turned  back  and  sent 
another  message,  ordering  a  piano. 

"Why,  it's  great!"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  rode 
back  to  his  office.  "It's  simply  great  to  be  able 
to  do  things  just  when  I  need  them!  I  never  knew 
what  fun  money  was  before.  But  then  I  never  had 
Margaret  to  spend  it  for,  and  she's  worth  the  whole 
of  it  at  once!" 

The  next  thing  he  ordered  was  a  great  easy  carriage 
with  plenty  of  room  to  convey  Mother  Earle  and 
her  friends  from  the  train  to  the  house. 

The  days  went  by  rapidly  enough,  and  Margaret 
was  so  busy  that  she  had  little  time  to  wonder  and 
worry  why  her  mother  did  not  write  her  the  long, 
loving,  motherly  good-by  letter  to  her  little  girl- 
hood that  she  had  expected  to  get.  Not  until  three 
days  before  the  wedding  did  it  come  over  her  that 
she  had  had  but  three  brief,  scrappy  letters  from  her 
mother,  and  they  not  a  whole  page  apiece.  What 
could  be  the  matter  with  mother?  She  was  almost 
on  the  point  of  panic  when  Gardley  came  and 
bundled  her  on  to  her  horse  for  a  ride. 

Strangely  enough,  he  directed  their  way  through 
Ashland  and  down  to  the  station,  and  it  was  just 
about  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  evening  train. 

Gardley  excused  himself  for  a  moment,  saying 
something  about  an  errand,  and  went  into  the 
station.  Margaret  sat  on  her  horse,  watching  the 
oncoming  train,  the  great  connecting  link  between 
East  and  West,  and  wondered  if  it  would  bring  a 
letter  from  mother. 

373 


A    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

The  train  rushed  to  a  halt,  and  behold  some  pas- 
sengers were  getting  off  from  a  private  car!  Mar- 
garet watched  them  idly,  thinking  more  about  an 
expected  letter  than  about  the  people.  Then  sud- 
denly she  awoke  to  the  fact  that  Gardley  was  greet- 
ing them.  Who  could  they  be? 

There  were  five  of  them,  and  one  of  them  looked 
like  Jane!  Dear  Jane!  She  had  forgotten  to  write 
her  about  this  hurried  wedding.  How  different  it 
all  was  going  to  be  from  what  she  and  Jane  had 
planned  for  each  other  in  their  dear  old  school-day 
dreams!  And  that  young  man  that  Gardley  was 
shaking  hands  with  now  looked  like  Cousin  Dick? 
She  hadn't  seen  him  for  three  years,  but  he  must 
look  like  that  now;  and  the  younger  girl  beside  him 
might  be  Cousin  Emily!  But,  oh,  who  were  the 
others?  Father!  And  MOTHER! 

Margaret  sprang  from  her  horse  with  a  bound 
and  rushed  into  her  mother's  arms.  The  interested 
passengers  craned  their  necks  and  looked  their  fill 
with  smiles  of  appreciation  as  the  train  took  up  its 
way  again,  having  dropped  the  private  car  on  the 
side  track. 

Dick  and  Emily  rode  the  ponies  to  the  house, 
while  Margaret  nestled  in  the  back  seat  of  the  car- 
riage between  her  father  and  mother,  and  Jane  got 
acquainted  with  Gardley  in  the  front  seat  of  the 
carriage.  Margaret  never  even  noticed  where  they 
were  going  until  the  carriage  turned  in  and  stopped 
before  the  door  of  the  new  house,  and  Mrs.  Tanner, 
furtively  casting  behind  her  the  checked  apron  she 
had  worn,  came  out  to  shake  hands  with  the  com- 
pany and  tell  them  supper  was  all  ready,  before  she 

374 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

went  back  to  her  deserted  boarding-house.  Even 
Bud  was  going  to  stay  at  the  new  house  that  night, 
in  some  cooked-up  capacity  or  other,  and  all  the 
men  from  the  bunk-house  were  hiding  out  among 
the  trees  to  see  Margaret's  father  and  mother  and 
shake  hands  if  the  opportunity  offered. 

The  wonder  and  delight  of  Margaret  when  she 
saw  the  house  inside  and  knew  that  it  was  hers,  the 
tears  she  shed  and  smiles  that  grew  almost  into 
hysterics  when  she  saw  some  of  the  incongruous  fur- 
nishings, are  all  past  describing.  Margaret  was  too 
happy  to  think.  She  rushed  from  one  room  to  an- 
other. She  hugged  her  mother  and  linked  her  arm 
in  her  father's  for  a  walk  across  the  long  piazza,]  she 
talked  to  Emily  and  Dick  and  Jane;  and  then 
rushed  out  to  find  Gardley  and  thank  him  again. 
And  all  this  time  she  could  not  understand  how  Gard- 
ley had  done  it,  for  she  had  not  yet  comprehended 
his  fortune. 

Gardley  had  asked  his  sisters  to  come  to  the 
wedding,  not  much  expecting  they  would  accept, 
but  they  had  telegraphed  at  the  last  minute  they 
would  be  there.  They  arrived  an  hour  or  so  before 
the  ceremony;  gushed  over  Margaret;  told  Gardley 
she  was  a  "sweet  thing ";  said  the  house  was 
"  dandy  for  a  house  party  if  one  had  plenty  of  ser- 
vants, but  they  should  think  it  would  be  dull  in 
winter";  gave  Margaret  a  diamond  sunburst  pin, 
a  string  of  pearls,  and  an  emerald  bracelet  set  in  dia- 
mond chips;  and  departed  immediately  after  the 
ceremony.  They  had  thought  they  were  the  chief 
guests,  but  the  relief  that  overspread  the  faces  of 
those  guests  who  were  best  beloved  by  both  bride 

375 


A   VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS 

and  groom  was  at  once  visible  on  their  departure. 
Jasper  Kemp  drew  a  long  breath  and  declared  to 
Long  Bill  that  he  was  glad  the  air  was  growing  pure 
again.  Then  all  those  old  friends  from  the  bunk- 
house  filed  in  to  the  great  tables  heavily  loaded  with 
good  things,  the  abundant  gift  of  the  neighborhood, 
and  sat  down  to  the  wedding  supper,  heartily  glad1 
that  the  "city  lady  and  her  gals" — as  Mom  Wallis 
called  them  in  a  suppressed  whisper — had  chosen 
not  to  stay  over  a  train. 

The  wedding  had  been  in  the  school-house,  em- 
bowered in  foliage  and  all  the  flowers  the  land 
afforded,  decorated  by  the  loving  hands  of  Mar- 
garet's pupils,  old  and  young.  She  was  attended  by 
the  entire  school  marching  double  file  before  her, 
strewing  flowers  in  her  way.  The  missionary's  wife 
played  the  wedding-march,  and  the  missionary  as- 
sisted the  bride's  father  with  the  ceremony.  Mar- 
garet's dress  was  a  simple  white  muslin,  with  a  little 
real  lace  and  embroidery  handed  down  from  former 
generations,  the  whole  called  into  being  by  Mar- 
garet's mother.  Even  Gardley's  sisters  had  said  it 
was  ' '  perfectly  dear. ' '  The  whole  neighborhood  was 
at  the  wedding. 

And  when  the  bountiful  wedding-supper  was 
eaten  the  entire  company  of  favored  guests  stood 
about  the  new  piano  and  sang  "Blest  Be  the  Tie 
that  Binds" — with  Margaret  playing  for  them. 

Then  there  was  a  little  hurry  at  the  last,  Mar- 
garet getting  into  the  pretty  traveling  dress  and  hat 
her  mother  had  brought,  and  kissing  her  mother  good- 
by — though  happily  not  for  long  this  time. 

Mother  and  father  and  the  rest  of  the  home  party 

376 


A   VOICE    IN   THE    WILDERNESS 

were  to  wait  until  morning,  and  the  missionary  and 
his  wife  were  to  stay  with  them  that  night  and  see 
them  to  their  car  the  next  day. 

So,  waving  and  throwing  kisses  back  to  the  others, 
they  rode  away  to  the  station,  Bud  pridefully  driv- 
ing the  team  from  the  front  seat. 

Gardley  had  arranged  for  a  private  apartment  on 
the  train,  and  nothing  could  have  been  more  luxuri- 
ous in  traveling  than  the  place  where  he  led  his 
bride.  Bud,  scuttling  behind  with  a  suit-case, 
looked  around  him  with  all  his  eyes  before  he  said 
a  hurried  good-by,  and  murmured  under  his  breath : 
"Gee!  Wisht  I  was  goin'  all  the  way!" 

Bud  hustled  off  as  the  train  got  under  way,  and 
Margaret  and  Gardley  went  out  to  the  observation 
platform  to  wave  a  last  farewell. 

The  few  little  blurring  lights  of  Ashland  died  soon 
in  the  distance,  and  the  desert  took  on  its  vast  wide- 
ness  beneath  a  starry  dome;  but  off  in  the  East  a 
purple  shadow  loomed,  mighty  and  majestic,  and 
rising  slowly  over  its  crest  a  great  silver  disk  ap- 
peared, brightening  as  it  came  and  pouring  a  silver 
mist  over  the  purple  peak. 

"My  mountain !"  said  Margaret,  softly. 

And  Gardley,  drawing  her  close  to  him,  stooped 
to  lay  his  lips  upon  hers. 

"My  darling!"  he  answered. 


THE  END 


The  Novels  of 
" v  Grace  Livingston  Hill 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.  Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list. 

Many  thousands  of  readers  have  found  inspiration  and  happi- 
ness in  reading  the  novels  of  Grace  Livingston  Hill.  In  her 
charming  romances  there  is  a  sympathetic  buoyant  spirit  that 
conquers  discouragement,  which  teaches  that  true  love  and 
happiness  will  come  out  of  the  worst  trial. 


Amorelle 

The  Ransom 

Patch  of  Blue 

Kerry 

The  Chance  of  a  Lifetime 

Silver  Wings 

Ladybird 

The  White  Lady 

The  Gold  Shoe    ' 

Found  Treasure 

Blue  Ruin 

The  Prodigal  Girl 

Duskin 

Crimson  Roses 

Out  of  the  Storm 

The  Honor  Girl 

Job's  Niece 

A  New  Name 

Ariel  Custer 

The  Best  Man 

Re-Creations 


The  Voice  in  the  Wilderness 

The  Beloved  Stranger 

Happiness  Hill 

The  Challengers 

The  City  of  Fire 

Cloudy  Jewel 

Dawn  of  the  Morning 

The  Enchanted  Barn 

Exit  Betty 

The  Finding  of  Jasper  Holt 

The  Girl  from  Montana 

Lo,  Michael 

The  Man  of  the  Desert 

Marcia  Schuyler 

Phoebe  Deane 

The  Red  Signal 

Tomorrow  About  This  Time 

The  Tryst 

The  Witness 

Not  Under  the  Law 

The  White  Flower 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 


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by  the  heartaches  of  love  and  its  charm. 


TWO  KEYS  TO  A  CABIN 
NO  LOVELIER  SPRING 

TRUE  BY  THE  SUN 
JONATHAN'S  DAUGHTER 

ROBIN  HILL 

THE  SILVER  FLUTE 

MULBERRY  SQUARE 

THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR 

TARPAPER  PALACE 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP  Publishers  NEW  YORK 


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